Bounty Hunter II: Black and White
by SnippyandSnarky
Summary: Sequel to Bounty Hunter all of those shades of grey can tear a hero or a villain in two. You thought the war was over, but it's all just begun. Destiny has a strange way of taking over. Features Dark!Harry, Hot!Draco and multiple character death. Enjoy!
1. Welcome to the Top

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, implied H/G (but not really)

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: Mature, R, Adult – rated for language explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised.

**A/N's**: Hey y'all, I'm back! Here's hoping the sequel turns out well. Let me know what you think. Also, this is an open call for betas – let me know if you're interested, and also if you'd be interested in looking at some completely original work. Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

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_No, whether or not __to __lead them . . . ._

Harry's dark words echoed in Draco's head as he stared around at his father's cronies. He opened his mouth to speak, his brain desperately searching for words to fit the situation – a sarcastic comment to buy him time, words of wisdom to impart – but he was came up blank a complete blank. He stood next to Harry, watching apprehensively the dark gleam in his green eyes, noticed his dirty, exhausted and bruised body, the way his soul felt, and had absolutely no idea what to say.

Suddenly, a loud roar akin to rolling thunder rumbled over the grounds. A shrieking wind shot out of the Forbidden Forest and a bolt of lightning ripped through the sky traveling down Harry's uplifted sword and encasing him in electric light. The hum of the power of the bolt vibrated along Draco's spine, raising his hair and warmly stroking his skin like a lover's caress. A deafening boom sounded, the earth shook.

Draco felt himself fly though the air. His mind no longer blank, he tried to call out for Harry. Through the haze, he thought he saw something being propelled towards the woods. Then he hit the ground, striking his head on a large rock and everything went black. His mind blank once more.

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_No, whether or not to lead them . . . ._

Ginny, Hermione and Severus watched the defeat of the Dark Lord with something akin to awe, staring as the Death Eaters surrounded Harry and bowed.

"What are they doing?" Hermione whispered.

"Surrendering," Ginny guessed.

"Offering their allegiance," Severus corrected.

"How do we get him out of there?" Hermione asked.

"What – you're afraid they're going to hurt him?" Ginny scoffed.

"Well, what then? Do we just walk out there? Hi, Harry, how's it going? Who are your new friends?" Hermione stood, toppling the precarious pyramid they had formed to watch the fight.

"I'd hardly call a group of has-been Death Eater's Harry's new friends." Ginny frowned.

"Hello – sarcasm." Hermione sniffed.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Severus mused, righting himself and offering Ginny a hand up as well. That's when the ground started to shake. A fierce wind blew up behind them and cycloned towards Harry and Draco. The unlikely trio found themselves on the ground once more as lightning struck the Boy Who lived.

"What the hell was that?" Hermione pushed herself up off the ground once more. "Harry!"

The dark haired boy lay unconscious a few feet from them, the force of whatever supernatural explosion had struck him having deposited him within their reach.

Hermione quickly moved to kneel beside him, Ginny following quickly after and Severus standing aloofly at his feet.

"Harry? Harry, wake up!" Hermione gently grasped his shoulders and shook him.

"H-hermione? Is that you? What happened?" Harry's voice was dazed, his eyes barely cracking open.

"You won, Harry. You did it." Hermione hugged him close, Severus narrowing his eyes as he watched. "It's over. It's all over."

Harry almost smiled, then passed out once more.

"Let's take him inside." Severus scowled.

"What – into Hogwarts?" Ginny questioned.

"It's about time it's reclaimed, don't you think?" Hermione pointed out.

"What about the remaining Death Eaters?" Ginny turned to face the clearing once more. "Hey, where'd they go?"

"Somewhere else," Severus said grimly. He pulled out his wand and lifted Harry's body into the air to silently float behind them as they walked towards the castle.

All was eerily quiet and calm, but as they walked, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that some kind of storm was brewing.

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Hermione looked up as Harry stirred on the hospital bed, finally regaining consciousness. She leaned forward, gently clasping his clammy fingers in her own. "Hey there, Hero. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a tornado and landed on a tree."

"Yeah, that's pretty much what happened."

Harry sat up and looked around. He was in the medical wing at Hogwarts, a place that he had awoken in many times before. He half-expected Madame Pomfrey to walk through the door any minute and shoo Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower so that he could rest. But she was dead.

Harry hazily recalled Hermione's voice speaking to him as he fell into darkness. _You won, Harry. You did it. It's over._ He looked up questioningly into Hermione's deep brown eyes, she smiled and he knew it was true. It was over.

"How did I get here?'

"We brought you in from the woods."

"We?"

"Severus, Ginny and I."

"And the Death Eaters?" Harry shifted the pillow behind him and leaned back. He felt ragged, bruised and exhausted. But he was alive. And he had Hermione back. And Voldemort was dead. That pretty much made it the best day of his life. "Draco?"

"Gone. Draco, too. We searched the grounds a few times, but there's no sign of them anywhere." Hermione sat back, now in full informer mode. "Severus is meeting with Dumbledore in his office. All of the remaining aurors and members of the Order are apparating in to pay their respects to you."

"I'm not dead."

"Hence the respect." Hermione laughed a little. "Ginny is helping plan a big party. It's sort of a 'Happy Birthday, Harry' slash 'Yay, Voldemort's dead' slash 'Re-opening of Hogwarts' extravaganza."

"Hogwarts is reopening?" Harry shook his head. "It all seems so impossible." He slumped back down in the bed and yawned.

"You should get some rest." Hermione gently brushed his black hair off his forehead. "You've had a – "

She stopped short, staring at him.

"What, what is it?"

"Harry – your, your scar!"

"What?" He reached up, his fingers automatically finding the patch on his forehead that had forever been marred by Voldemort's work.

"It's gone."

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Harry stood in Dumbledore's office, as he had so many times before, Fawkes cleaning his feathers and eyeing him.

"Mr. Potter, how are you?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him. He sat behind his desk, looking as ancient as he always had, and completely unchanged by the war and its aftermath.

"Fine, sir." Harry settled himself into a chair. "A little worse for wear, maybe . . ."

"Have some tea, Harry." The older wizard waved his wand and a tea tray appeared on the desk before him. Harry looked at the tray but didn't reach for anything.

Without a word, Harry waved his hand over an empty cup and it filled with strong coffee. He lifted the warm mug into his hands and offered the older man a reluctant smile. Dumbledore hid his surprise. The Harry he had known would never have presumed such a move, would have taken what he was offered with sincere thanks

Dumbledore regarded the man before him. Harry still supported the bruising of one black eye, his skin yellow in places where other bruises had healed. But despite the vestiges of his injuries, he looked awake and alert. Capable. Gone was the awkward boy, shyly standing in front of the Headmaster's desk, eyes full of innocence, hope and gratitude. Here was perhaps the most powerful wizard on the planet, dangerous and dark in ways that were hidden on the surface. Confident and commanding, the way a true leader was meant to be.

"I have terrible news, Harry." Dumbledore's eyes were unreadable.

"Sir?"

"It's not over. Not yet."

Harry gazed back at him, his facial expression blank, but Dumbledore noted the bleakness that had entered his eyes. The calm acceptance that it was never over, that the fight would go on and on forever until Harry himself ceased to exist.

"Harry, the Order and I have discovered another part to the prophecy. We were working on deciphering it when Severus gave us the news that Voldemort had been defeated."

"I see."

"Harry, I trust you remember Tom Riddle's diary and the dark entity contained within?" Harry nodded. "The prophecy seems to refer to the existence of two powerful wizards vying for power. It is my belief that Voldemort was able to tap into your power and create a new body to exist in."

"Bloody hell." Harry shook his head.

"We think that's why your scar is gone. Harry, there's something else you should know as well."

Harry's questioning gaze seemed to pierce Dumbledore's heart. He continued softly, "Harry, the body he's in looks just like you. When you killed Voldemort, instead of becoming him as you feared–" Harry looked up sharply. The years had done nothing to take away the uncanny way Dumbledore would just know what was inside your head. "He became you."

"So where is he?" Harry's hands balled into fists.

"We don't know."

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Harry came to in what appeared to be the Slytherin Common Room at Hogwarts. He was laid out on one of the black leather couches, before a roaring green fire in the fireplace. He lifted his head and shifted to a sitting position, fighting the wave of nausea and dizziness that threatened to consume him.

As he became more aware, Harry realized that his body was clean. He was dressed in his black dragonleather trousers and his green wool sweater was neatly folded on the glass and steel coffee-table before him. It appeared to be clean and repaired. His hand found the werewolf tooth necklace still around his neck and it calmed him. His brain flashed images of the final battle between Harry Potter and Voldemort, of being struck by lightning of flying through the air only to crash land dangerously close to his sword. What the hell was he doing here?

A tray appeared on the coffee table. Hot steaming black coffee, a fluffy golden pile of scrambled eggs and some toast. Cautiously, he took a sip of the coffee, the bitter brew clearing the rest of the fog from his brain and making his stomach rumble.

"Hello?" He called out. There was no answer. "Draco?" Nothing.

He looked around for his wand, but it was nowhere in sight. Shrugging his shoulders, he helped himself to the repast without the anti-poision spell he had intended to use. It was a good day to die when he woke up this morning planning to kill Voldemort, it was probably still one. And at least he had a last meal. He frowned, wondering if it was still the same day. His mind filled with questions.

How long had he been out? How had he gotten here? Had somebody bathed him? His mind immediately pictured Draco. This was the Slytherin Common Room after all, it seemed just the sort of place Draco would pick to get him cleaned up.

Finishing his meal, Harry stood up and stretched. He felt good. Really good. Strong, powerful and without the constant ache in his bones and muscles that he had become accustomed to. He smiled.

A knock sounded throughout the cavernous Common Room. Not at the door, more in the air. Harry lifted a brow, bemused. "Hello? Come in?"

"Mr, Potter, so good to see you back on your feet again."

Harry turned around, the smile melting away. "What are _you_ doing here?" His mouth twisted in a wry expression. "Alive?"

There, on the top of the staircase, in all of his customary finery stood the last person Harry had ever expected to see. Lucius Malfoy.

"Why, I'm paying my respects to the new power in town." Lucius smiled that Malfoy smile that never reached his eyes. "Welcome to the top of the food chain, Harry. I think you're going to like it here."


	2. Blond, Snobby, Evil

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, implied H/G (but not really)

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: Mature, R, Adult – rated for language explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised.

**A/N's**: A quick note on the H/G implied – what I mean is there will be situations between them with sexual subtext, dark, disturbing, unrequited and wrong subtext – it's about a power-play and intimidation – there will be no romantic relationship between them – and probably no sexual TEXT – just SUBtext. To be perfectly clear, HARRY IS NOT ATTRACTED TO GINNY! Hope that relieves some fears – hey, guys, just trust me, alright? I won't let you down.

Oh – and still looking for betas. Thanks. Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

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Harry cracked his knuckles. "What a pleasure, Lucius. I always wanted to be able to kill you again."

"I'd be careful, Potter. There's a whole new crop of enemies surrounding you now."

"Funny." Harry gestured at Lucius. "Blond, snobby, evil. They look the same to me."

"Even now, your old friends are plotting your imminent demise."

"Hey, when you're stuck in a castle, you have to make your own fun." Harry shrugged.

"They think you're Voldemort, Harry."

Harry just stared blankly at Lucius. "Why would they think that?"

"Because there are two of you." Lucius smirked. "The boys who lived, so to speak."

"Two of me?"

"Sit down, Potter." Lucius sprawled elegantly in one of the armchairs near the fireplace.

"Shouldn't you be stroking some kind of sinister cat?" Harry smirked as he settled onto the leather couch. "So which rock did you slither out from under?"

"I know you're surprised to see me." Lucius rested his cane against his knee. "It's been a long time since you left me for dead covered in poisonous snakes."

"You look good for a dead man, Lucius." Harry's eyes swept the older man. He could see so much of Lucius in Draco. "But then, Malfoy's are always pretty."

Lucius' eyes flashed, and for a second, he looked like he was about to say something to Harry. Then he stopped and started again. "Harry, there is a secret sect – "

"Called Death Eaters, sworn allegiance to the Dark Lord, scary tattoos, blah, blah, blah . . . "

"No. Some of us were members of the top tier of Death Eaters, but Riddle and his insanity are hardly the point. This is a society of power, Harry."

"What are you talking about?" Harry's voice and face were cold as stone, but inside his heart raced. He felt the same way he had the day Hagrid had told him about the Boy Who Lived, like here was another piece of his destiny, something he should have known, but didn't.

"There was supposed to be a fifth house in Hogwarts, Harry. Did you know that?"

Harry shook his head.

"There was a fifth founder, a fifth member of that little group. He was Salazar Slytherin's cousin. A handsome man, charismatic, and powerful. A man so ambitious, so ruthless, that they ultimately refused to let him help found the school. Even Slytherin, his very own cousin, felt he couldn't be trusted, not that Salazar trusted anyone really."

"Why?" Harry cursed the curiosity in his voice. "Was he dangerous?"

"He was . . . I don't have the words." Lucius paused for a moment, admiration in his eyes. Harry had the passing thought that it was the first honest emotion other than anger Lucius had ever expressed in his presence. "He was undefeatable. He fought wars and was the last one standing." Lucius cut Harry a sharp look. "Literally. Often all of his team died, but he survived. He was rumored to have the power to deflect spells – unfortunately, they fell on whoever was closest."

Harry bit his lip to prevent from crying, 'But it wasn't his fault!"

"And maybe that's why they wouldn't let him in. He had so many enemies, so many wizards trying to kill him, that with his deflection powers standing in a six-foot radius of him was inviting death." Lucius shrugged, a cat-got-the-canary grin on his face. "But he was allowed to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts for a few semesters, and developed his own following, students loyal to him and his ideals. An invisible fifth house if you will. And this fifth house is the society I was telling you about."

"What was his name?"

"Pardon?"

"His name."

Lucius smiled. "Bane. Bane Black."

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Harry left Dumbledore's office feeling vaguely disconnected and dazed. Voldemort walking around looking like him. Something inside of him whispered that it couldn't be true. But what would that mean? Two Harry's? It didn't matter, of course. He knew what it meant. Either way, the other him was evil and must be killed.

Dumbledore had made it clear that this little secret was to be kept between the two of them for the time being. The Wizarding World was just starting to recover from the War, to wake from a deep shock. They didn't need any more confusion in their lives. Let them rejoice and think it was all over for awhile. They deserved it.

Harry left the castle, heading out across the grounds. He stood by the lake like he used to when he was a student here. The grounds were quiet, but Harry had learned to like being alone.

The area seemed to echo with the exuberant youthful cries of former Hogwart's students. He looked over to the ruins of Hagrid's hut, his eyes pricking painfully, though he hadn't cried in years. These grounds were a graveyard now. Harry sat heavily on the ground, laid his head on his folded arms and wept. **SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

"So, Potter. Do you understand what I'm asking?"

"I do," Harry nodded.

There was a knock at the outside door. Lucius moved to answer it. A man in a black cloak swept into the room.

"Sir, the cloaking spell is in place. No one will come near here." The cloaked man bowed. "But we're having a little trouble with the prisoner."

"Prisoner?" Harry questioned sharply.

"Well, he always was a troublemaker. What does he want now?"

"Out, not to put too fine a point on it." The cloaked man hesitated, then added, "And we were thinking, since it's the Dark Lord's place to decide what to do with him . . . "

"Dark Lord?" Harry interjected softly.

"That would be you, Potter." Lucius smiled wickedly.

"Well then, let's see this prisoner." Harry sat back in his chair and summoned a bottle of firewhiskey.

Lucius made a gesture and the man disappeared.

"Sit down, Lucius. Have a drink." Harry waited while the blond man complied. "Convince me not to kill you, again."

"You need to put a little more emphasis on your sarcasm, Potter. It's hard to tell when you're joking."

"I wasn't joking." Harry smirked.

There was a loud crash upstairs. "Get your bloody hands the fuck off me!"

Harry smiled deeply. He'd recognize that snarling voice anywhere. Draco.

"You imprisoned your son?"

"Well, I was going to send him to bed without his supper, but the little bastard keeps conjuring his own."

Draco appeared at the base of the stairs, the cloaked man following close behind him. Draco sneered at the man as he reached for the blond's elbow. "Try it and I'll break your arm."

"Play nice, son," Lucius admonished.

"Piss off, Father." Draco scowled. "You're still alive?"

"Takes more than a snake in the grass to kill me." Lucius smiled.

"Apparently. Tell me, if we chop you in half, do we get two of you?"

"You're asking the wrong person." Lucius intimated darkly.

Harry stood. "Leave us."

The cloaked man scrambled to leave the room. Harry turned his stare on Lucius.

"Harry, I'm not sure this is the best idea – "

"I'm sure I didn't ask your opinion. Leave." Harry glared at him.

"I just think – "

"I don't care what you think. I know what you want. I listened to what you had to say. I'm here." Harry folded his arms over his chest. "But at the end of the day, I pretty much think, once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. I'd as soon kill you as look at you. So get out."

Lucius turned and swept gracefully from the room.

"Nice to see you back from the dead, Father." Draco called to the slamming door.

"So, Potter, what do you intend to do with me?" Draco crossed his arms over his chest. Draco had not been cleaned up by the scary secret sect of Death Eaters.

"I have a list." Harry's eyes flashed. "So did you know about the fifth house?"

Draco just stared at him.

"I see."

Draco shrugged. "I'm the heir to a legacy."

"Sit." Harry gestured to the seat his father had vacated.

Draco perched on the side of the coffee table instead. "Good to see you haven't lost your monosyllabic charm. So are we going to have tea?"

Harry plunked the bottle of firewhiskey that he had been gripping down beside Draco. "What, no truth serum this time?"

"Do I need it?" Harry sprawled back on the couch once more. "I didn't think so."

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Draco pursed his lips. It wasn't like him to engage in an outburst, but he felt seriously close to the end of his rope.

"I find myself . . ." Harry seemed to struggle with his words. "In strange territory."

"What do you want from me, Harry?" Draco stood, pacing in agitation. "In the past few days, I almost killed a girl, got kidnapped, almost got killed, got laid, almost got killed again, helped defeat the Dark Lord and got kidnapped again. I'm too tired to play games."

"You once told me that you would help me make friends with the right sort of wizards."

"I did."

"I'd like to take you up on the offer." Harry held out his hand.

Draco stared at him for a moment, his heart racing for reasons he refused to examine. He put his hand in Harry's, a feeling of fate electrifying the feel of Harry's fingers wrapped around his own. "I can help you there."

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Ginny found herself standing in the middle of the Chamber of Secrets. Nobody knew that she could still open it, and every now and then she came down to be alone. Or at least that's what she told herself. She was looking for someone, someone who was dead now. Harry had killed him.

A chill wind swept the chamber, and she looked up. "Tom?"

The silence mocked her.

"What's wrong with me?" She whispered. Ginny had been drawn to Tom in a way that had to be unnatural. He had listened to her, talked to her – and it didn't matter that she could feel the darkness emanating from him. And through this young experience, she had picked up an attraction to darkness and power. All of her boyfriends had been too nice for her. She even had to admit that she had been drawn to Harry that day he saved her in the woods, his raw fury, his ruthless attitude. She shivered. It was the first time she had felt anything like that since . . . since Tom.

Ginny tried to push the thoughts away. She knew there was nothing between her and Harry. For one, if her hunch proved correct, she didn't even have the right body parts for Harry to be interested. And more than that, she wasn't attracted to Harry. Just turned on by his darkness.

And what did she do now? There was no bringing people back who were gone. There was no one dark enough to hold her attention. Tom was dead. And she was going to spend the rest of her life alone. She almost turned to leave, but instead, sat down in the place where the ink had pooled long ago. She didn't cry. She didn't speak. And she didn't move for the rest of the night.

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

"So there are two of you now?" Draco steepled his hands in front of his face as he tended to do when thinking things over.

"Apparently."

"So what do you intend to do about it?"

"For right now?" Harry grinned, a parody of his boyish expression. "Have a little fun, until they figure it out."

"And then?"

"Well, it's obvious. I have a twin. He's evil. And I must kill him," Harry stated matter of factly.

"I see. And you want me to help you kill . . . you."

"Among other things," Harry's eyes flashed once more.

Draco swallowed. "And you're going to join us, the House of Black?"

"Join you?" Harry smirked. "Oh Draco, you hit your head harder than I thought. Your Father wasn't here to ask me to _join_ you."

"No?" Draco looked at Harry, realization sweeping through him.

"I have decided to lead you." Harry smiled, standing and looking down at Draco, his innate power a cloak around him.

"So, how do we tell you apart from your evil twin? Are you going to wear nametags or something?"

"Wouldn't really help, seeing as how we have the same name."

"Pick a different name."

Harry sat, took a sip from the whiskey bottle and considered. "Not a bad idea. I do feel different, somehow."

Draco sat back, drinking in the picture of Harry sitting across from him, as if they were old school chums, as if Harry had been sorted into Slytherin and they had always been best friends . . . or something else. "So what do I call you now?"

"Already planning on calling out my name?" Harry smirked. Draco returned the expression, not backing down. "Well, I suppose you can call me 'Bane'."


	3. Dark Arts Defense Against, that is

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, (other pairings added as story continues))

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: Mature, R, Adult – rated for language explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised.

**A/N's** IMPORTANT: From this point on, the Harry that is currently hanging out in Slytherin will be called "Bane", as per his request. The Harry that was rescued by Snape, Hermione and Ginny will be Harry. They will both be called "Potter" from time to time. Let me know if that's too confusing.

Oh – and still looking for betas. Thanks. Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Bane stood and languidly stretched, like some sort of predatory cat who had been napping in the sun. He rolled his neck and yawned, a satisfied smirk curving his luscious mouth. Draco's breath caught in his throat.

"You look like you could use a shower, my friend," Bane purred.

"Do I?" Draco tried to wet his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Yeah, why don't you do that? I'll be back." Bane headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"What are you, my mother?" Bane scoffed. Draco was taken aback. Harry had never joked about mothers. "I'm going for a walk around."

"Hey, Rockstar!"

Bane turned, eyebrow raised.

"Put a shirt on, for Merlin's sake." Draco tossed him the folded green sweater from the table.

Bane grinned. Tossing the shirt into the air, he waved his left hand and when he caught it, it had been transfigured into a black dragonleather vest that matched his pants. "Thanks for the tip."

Draco watched the dark haired man stroll out of the room, his walk had changed. As a young boy, Harry had kind of trampled along. The hardened Bounty Hunter had walked with poise, but simply, with purpose and economy of motion. This man walked with a lethal grace that sent shivers down Draco's spine. There was something different about this man, but Draco couldn't put his finger on it.

With a sigh, the blond headed for a hot shower. He pictured Bane's flashing green eyes again. Maybe a cold shower. **SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Hermione wandered the corridor that used to be forbidden. Echoes of her childhood burned into her brain. She, Harry and Ron screaming when they saw the three-headed dog. The Chess Room trap, when she thought Ron might be dead for a terrifying minute. She found herself in front of the room with the trap door and entered mindlessly.

There was Harry, dressed in black leather pants and a vest, standing in front of the Mirror of Erised. "Harry?"

He turned slowly, showing no surprise. "Hermione."

"What are you going? And more importantly, what are you wearing?"

"You were expecting a Hogwarts uniform?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I don't spend that much energy imagining what you're wearing," Hermione shot back, a little stung by his sarcasm.

"If you say so." He shrugged.

Hermione felt a slight blush rising to her cheeks, and suddenly missed Severus a lot. What was wrong with her? This was her best friend in the world – and he had been through a lot. So he was a little different. He had become that way to save her, and she would not hold that against him. She would just have to get used to the man he had become.

He had turned back to the mirror. "You remember what this does?"

"The Mirror of Erised? Shows your heart's desire."

"I used to come here and see me standing next to my parents."

"I know."

"When I first found out about the prophecy, that either I or Voldemort would die, I thought I was going to lose. That I would die and finally be with my parents and that's what I had seen in the mirror." He spoke without emotion.

"Oh, Harry."

"And then, after the War started, right before the Christmas Massacre, I came up here again, and I didn't see my parents anymore."

"What did you see?" Hermione was enthralled. Harry seemed to be speaking to himself, from his inner psyche, and she was fascinated to be able to listen, to have the opportunity to see into this enigma.

"Me killing Voldemort. Over and over. A thousand different ways. Each way more painful than the last." His eyes were unfocused as the words spilled out of his mouth.

"And what do you see now, Harry?"

"Now? I see me. Just me." He half turned towards her, a calm expression on his face.

Hermione reached up and smoothed his hair out of his eyes. "Maybe that means you're happy."

"Maybe." He turned back to the mirror and froze, staring at his forehead in the mirror.

"Hard to get used to that old scar being gone?" Hermione asked sympathetically.

"Yeah." He shook himself, but his eyes stayed fixed on the mirror. "Hey, would you mind giving me a few minutes alone?"

"No, not at all." She turned to go. "Dumbledore told me you agreed to play Seeker tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Harry," she said, exasperated. "The brunch, the Quidditch game – followed by a ball in your honor – any of this ringing a bell?"

"Yeah, of course." Harry nodded slowly, a slight smile curving his lips. "I'll be there."

"See you later then?" She watched as his gaze returned to the mirror, and hid a sigh.

"Bye." When the door closed, Bane's expression transformed into a deep scowl. In the mirror, his reflection had a scar. **SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Ginny looked up at the sound of footsteps echoing through the Chamber. There, walking towards her as if he owned the Chamber of Secrets, was Lucius Malfoy. Her heart leapt into her throat.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Lucius leaned on his cane, his eyes sweeping the redhead at his feet. "A Weasley?"

"Ginny Weasley," She corrected, scrambling to her feet only to find herself entirely too close to Lucius.

"How did you get down here?" His eyes traveled her body once more, taking in the wrinkled skirt and low-cut top.

"Walked."

"And what is a fine former Gryffindor like yourself doing in the Chamber of Secrets?" He inquired, towering over her, daring her to take a step back.

"Saying goodbye to . . . an old friend, not that it's any of your business."

"I see." His voice intimated that he saw more than she wanted him to. His knowing expression was creating a pit of anxiety in her stomach. "Well, are you quite finished?"

"I'm sorry, aren't you supposed to be dead?" Ginny was slowly regaining her ability to think, feeling like she had been in a trance for several hours.

"Rumors that have been greatly exaggerated," he offered.

"Apparently."

"Ginny, I don't want to leave you down here."

"Does Harry know you're here?"

"That's a more complicated question than you know." Lucius smiled. "Come to dinner with me."

"Excuse me?!"

"You look famished. And it's not good for a young girl to hang around in damp dungeons all day. Besides, we have a mutual friend who died." Lucius' eyes pierced into hers. He leaned down, his silky blond hair brushing her cheek. His lips touched her ear as he whispered, "You and I both know that I'm the only one who understands what you're feeling now, who won't hate you for it."

Ginny shivered, but refused to examine the way she was feeling. She just nodded and let Lucius put his arm around her and lead her out of the Chamber. **SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Harry Potter stood up, walking away from the lake without looking back. Tomorrow, there would be a gala – starting with some kind of fancy brunch, then an afternoon Quidditch game (that Harry had agreed to play seeker for), and then a formal dinner and ball. Dumbledore had warned Harry that he would have to make speeches and participate, pretend everything was alright. It seemed so pointless. He wasn't much for putting on a show just to make people feel better, but he was too tired to fight right now.

Everything seemed to be a distance, like he wasn't really here. Hogwarts seemed like some kind of dream, a nightmare from which he couldn't wake.

Harry wrapped his arms around himself, the rough wool of his black sweater chafing his arms. His hand automatically searched for the werewolf tooth necklace, but he had lost it in the final battle. Well, what he had thought was the final battle.

As he entered the Great Hall, he saw Hermione sitting at the Head Table, sifting through some papers. They were probably the plans for the party.

"Hey there." He sat down across from her.

"Hey – you changed." She eyed his jeans and sweater, which seemed to suit him much better.

"Physically or mentally?" He asked, wryly.

Hermione smiled. "I know what you mean."

"So, where's Snape?" He eyed her warily.

"Setting up an apartment for us in Ravenclaw." She smiled. "You haven't seen Ginny have you?"

Harry shook his head. "So how are 'things' going with you two?"

"You really want to know?"

Harry fought a shudder. "I don't want details! Just – are you happy? Is this what you wanted? Have you recovered from your temporary insanity?"

"Harry!" She swatted at him playfully. He ducked her, and from the way he moved, she knew he had to fight the instinct to counterattack. She swallowed hard. "I'm happy, Harry."

"Good."

"What about you? Are you happy . . . ?" She felt ridiculous. She was looking at him and could see he wasn't happy. "Do you miss Draco?"

Harry gazed at her without expression. "I don't like not knowing where he is.'

"That's not exactly the same thing."

"No, but it's truthful."

"Maybe he'll show up tomorrow." She leaned forward, bracing her chin on her hand. "It's like him to take off to be alone and show back up with no explanation."

"You know him that well?"

"Captivity in someone's basement gives you a whole new perspective on intimacy," She said darkly. For a second, she seemed to be lost in thought, but shook herself out of it. "Besides, spy or not, there's not a lot of love for Malfoy's anymore."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure he'll turn up."

"Like a bad knut, Potter." Draco's voice sounded behind them. "Miss me?"

Hermione watched as a rush of relief swept Harry. He didn't smile, but he froze for a second, then gave Draco the upward nod that men seemed to exchange in greeting. She stood and gathered her things.

"Well, I better go check on Severus, make sure our whole apartment isn't decorated in black . . . talk to you tomorrow!" Hermione rushed out of the room.

Harry looked up at Draco. "So, there's going to be a Quidditch match tomorrow."

"I can honestly say I never expected that to be the first words out of your mouth to me."

"I was hoping to get the chance to kick your ass – wanna play seeker?"

"Against you?" Draco smirked. "Any day."

Harry nodded.

"Aren't you going to ask me where I've been?"

"No."

"Well. I'm staying in Slytherin. I'm – the only one there."

"The only one still alive, you mean." Harry felt a slight sense of satisfaction at that thought and it disgusted him.

An image of his father flashed in Draco's mind. "Yeah."

A moment of silence stretched between them. Draco cleared his throat. "So, you're in Gryffindor?"

"Seemed appropriate." Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Might be teaching Dark Arts this fall. Defense against, that is."

"Wow. So they're really reopening Hogwarts." When Harry only nodded silently, Draco perched on the table in front of him. "Cheer up, Hero. You made it. You're alive."

"Could've fooled me."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Draco drawled. "You seemed happier before the fight was over."

"I'm . . . more than tired. Weary." Harry passed a hand over his face.

Draco settled himself next to Harry, edging close enough that their shoulders touched. They sat in a more comfortable silence for a long time.

Unbeknownst to them, Bane stood in the shadows of the room, watching. An idea began to form in his mind. Yes, this could work. . .


	4. The Devil's Playground

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, (other pairings added as story continues))

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: Mature, R, Adult – rated for language explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised.

**A/N's**: Ahoy- adult content ahead! Keep your eyes on little Ginny Weasley – and when you get to the end, well, you won't believe what's going to happen next. (Lucky for you guys, I already wrote the next chapter – it'll be up soon.)

Thanks. Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Bane regarded the marble chess set before him on the coffee table, safely ensconced in the Slytherin Common Room once more. He was awaiting Draco's return from the Great Hall.

As he looked around the room, he noted a long black box with an emerald green ribbon tied around it. The box sat innocently on the mantle of the fireplace, but Bane was sure that it hadn't been there before. Intrigued, he stood and picked it up. There was a card attached to the ribbon.

_Long live the House of Black . . ._

"Lucius and his flare for melodrama," Bane sighed.

Opening the box, he found a wand nestled in its velvet lining. Voldemort's wand. He lifted it into his hand and gave it a wave. The pieces on the chess board twirled into the air, the black pieces exchanging places with the white on either side of the board.

"Fascinating."

"Ha – Bane?"

Bane turned, tucking the wand into his pocket. "Draco. Come in – sit down."

Draco cautiously sat in one of the chairs, noting the chess set on the table before him. "Care for a game?"

"Think you can challenge me?" Bane purred, sitting down across from him.

"Would you care to make a wager?"

Bane smirked. "What terms?"

"100 galleons?"

"Money bores me."

"Was there something else you wanted?" Draco asked, his silver eyes the color of storm clouds.

"Yes, there is." Bane leaned forward. "Let's just bet a favor – a big favor."

"A friend doesn't have to win a wager to beg a favor."

"I beg no one." Bane gestured at the board. "White moves first."

Draco regarded the board, moving a pawn noncommittally.

"So, Draco, did you know Lucius was still alive?" Bane countered without looking at the board.

"No, but I wasn't exactly surprised." Draco moved another pawn. The air around them felt electrified. Bane held an essence, a vitality that the other Harry seemed to be missing now. Harry was comforting, easy. Bane was dangerous, exciting. And Draco was caught in the middle of maelstrom.

"So, how is my other self doing?" Bane looked at Draco from under sooty lashes.

Draco fought the urge to ask if Bane had seen Draco and Harry talking . . . or not talking, as it were. "Seems alright.'

"Tell me, Draco, what favor will you ask should you win?" Bane moved his black knight.

""Wouldn't you like to know?" Draco was starting to feel more like himself, like he was on familiar ground once more. "You first. What do you want?"

Bane watched Draco's elegant fingers curl around a rook. "Knowledge is power, my friend."

"So what do you want to know?"

"I want to know what my other self is up to." Bane took the rook with his knight. "And you, my friend, make the perfect double agent."

"I would think _you_ make the perfect double agent." Draco watched the loss of his rook impassively, then took the knight with a bishop.

"Ironically, I make the perfect double agent with everyone but the most important player."

"Yourself."

"Just so." Bane took the Bishop with a pawn that Draco had never noticed edging closer. "I want you to get close to him."

"How close?" Draco moved another pawn.

"Very, very close." Bane smirked. "Check."

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor." Lucius bowed in the foyer of his mansion.

"Does Draco know you're staying here?" Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, nervously. She wasn't sure what she was doing here, how she had gotten here. But she had no desire to be anywhere else.

"My son has elected to stay at Hogwarts for the time being, for reasons he has yet to disclose to me." Malfoy turned on his heel, heading for the stairs. "This way, please."

"Where are we going?"

"My private chambers." Lucius turned to look at her over his shoulder. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"Yes."

"Are you coming?"

Ginny swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Good."

Ginny followed him upstairs and into his personal suite. The outer chamber was a drawing room of sorts, with a leather sofa, two wing back chairs and a low marble table. There was a fireplace behind the chairs. The room was finished in deep reds and black iron, a contrast of luxury and rough edges. The carpet was thick, the color of blood and her heels sank into it. To the right of the fireplace was an open door leading to the bedchamber. The wrought iron four poster bed stood on a pedestal with steps leading up to it and appeared to be dressed in deep red velvet. She shivered again.

"Sit." Lucius gestured at the leather sofa as he moved to the sidebar to fix them a drink. "Can I get you something?"

"Whatever you're having."

Lucius set two shot glasses in front of her on the table, filled them and plunked the bottle of aged firewhiskey between them. He raised his glass. "To Tom?"

"To Tom." She clinked the glass against his, leaned her head back and tossed it down. Readily, he refilled their glasses.

"So, how did you know Tom, Virginia?"

"I think you know, Lucius," she countered, licking her lips. The burn of the whiskey smoldered down her throat into her stomach. Her lips twisted in sarcasm. "We were pen pals."

Lucius sat down next to her on the sofa, arranging himself back against the corner, giving her a little breathing room. He looked up through a fringe of golden lashes, a smirk curling the corners of his lips. "I think you were a little more than that."

"Hard to be more than that with a book." Ginny tossed down another shot and Lucius gamely refilled her glass again.

"Unconsummated passion is passion, nonetheless."

"Passion? Is that what it was?" Ginny scoffed. Her skin was heating, from the whiskey or from the heated dreams of past days, she wasn't sure. Idly, she noted that Lucius was a handsome older man. His body firm, strong and mature. His grey eyes as piercing as his son's, his arrogance worn like a cloak around his broad, regal shoulders. He oozed sinister charm.

"Tell me, did you _want_ more?"

"More?" She gazed into the whiskey in her glass. She was starting to feel tipsy and resisted the urge to toss that shot back quickly as well.

Lucius' fingers curled under her chin, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes. His touch burned. "You wanted him to touch you, to feel possessed physically, to be under his control."

Ginny swallowed hard.

"Tom had that effect on some women." He held her face firmly in his hands.

"Some women?" She wet her lips, noting how his eyes followed the motion.

"Women like you."

Ginny pulled away from him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not judging, mind you. But some women like romance, flowers and fluff." Lucius moved closer, trapping Ginny against the back of the couch with a hand on either side of her legs. "And others like something a little more rough around the edges, a little more dangerous."

"And you think I'm the latter."

"Aren't you?" He lifted a hand to roll a red curl around his fingers, testing the softness. With the edge of his fingers stroking her skin, he tucked it behind her ear, leaning in to whisper to her. "Don't you want to be fully possessed, owned . . . taken?"

"I – I – "

"Right now, aren't you a little turned on because you're cornered here?" He pressed his thumb against the racing pulse at the base of her neck. "Your heart is racing."

"I'm afraid."

"Of me? Or you?" His hand slid across her skin, cupping her face while his thumb brushed over her lips. "Or are you afraid that no one will be able to do what Tom did to you?"

Ginny closed her eyes, silently admitting to everything Lucius was saying. "Maybe."

"I can give you a taste of that." His fingers slid into her hair, holding her head firmly in place. "I can make you feel like that again."

Ginny felt a wave of desire work its way through her. What was she doing?

"You know you want it," Lucius whispered. "I could take you right here on this sofa."

Her whole body was shaking, her eyes fixed on his. Almost imperceptibly, she nodded.

Lucius' mouth forcefully covered hers, drawing her into a deep kiss. He placed a hand on her chest, pushing her down into the couch and covering his body with hers. Ginny gasped for breath, before eagerly seeking his mouth again. His fingers stroked her thighs, reaching the hem of her skirt and shoving it up around her waist. She hooked one leg around his waist, as his hand slid under her panties and his fingers sunk deep inside her.

"This is . . . wrong," she panted.

"I know." He wrapped a hand lightly around her throat, looking into her eyes. "That's why you like it."

Ginny heard the zipper on his pants being undone. His thick, hard cock pressed against her wet opening. She gasped as he slid slowly, deeply inside her.

"More," she breathed. His hand around her throat tightened and loosened with his thrusts, the lack of oxygen and danger exciting her more than anything, anyone else ever had. She dug her fingernails into his back and let go of all coherent thought.

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Lucius sat draped in a deep red robe on the black leather sofa. Through the still open door to the bedchamber, he could see Ginny sprawled in the middle of his bed, the crimson sheet draped over her waist in stark contrast with the pale, creamy skin of one leg peeking out from underneath the satin fabric. Her mouth was swollen from his kisses, light purple bruises starting to form on her neck in the shape of his fingers. Her hair spread around her delicate face on the pillows, a halo for a fallen angel.

There was a sharp rap at the outside door. Lucius looked up, calling out, "Enter."

"Hello, Father." Draco stood draped in the black velvet clothes that signified the Malfoy colors.

"Come in, Draco." His father regarded him with focused eyes, though his body language remained relaxed. Lucius' eyes reminded Draco of an eagle searching for prey. He twirled a snifter of brandy in one hand and was holding a round cigar in the other. Draco crossed the room, his sweeping glance taking in the sleeping Ginny Weasley.

"Well, well, Father, you've been busy."

Lucius smiled, casting a sly look over his shoulder. "Idle hands, my son . . ."

"Built the devil's playground Father – we call it Malfoy Manor."

"Something vexing you son? Your witty repartee is a little edged tonight."

"You fucked Ginny Weasley."

Lucius smirked. "A couple times."

"Fine." Draco crossed his arms over his chest. His expression teased at Lucius' memory.

"You're here for some fatherly advice," Lucius drawled. "I'd recognize that mulishly resigned look any day of the week."

"I find myself . . . at something of a crossroads." Draco conjured himself a snifter of brandy, glancing over as Ginny stirred on the bed, the sheet sliding off more of her than he was comfortable looking at. Quickly he averted his gaze.

"Let me guess. You can't decide what side you're on."

"In a matter of speaking."

"Indecision was always your downfall, son. Learn a lesson from Hamlet and make a bloody choice." Lucius sipped his brandy. "You know, when you set your mind to it, you rose up the ranks of Death Eaters like the son I've always meant you to be."

"Thanks." Draco sniffed.

"When I saw you double-cross Voldemort and the Death Eaters, aligning yourself with the real power in the situation – I think it was the first time I was truly proud of you since the day you were born."

Draco tried not to choke.

"I have confidence that you'll end up on top, Draco." His father put down his cigar. "Malfoy's always do."

Lucius stood, pulled out his wand and transfigured his robe into black slacks and charcoal cashmere sweater. "I'm headed out. Will you be staying here, or at Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts." Draco narrowed his eyes. Whether he would be staying in Gryffindor or Slytherin was yet to be determined. He glanced over at Ginny. "You just going to leave her here?"

"I don't think she's going anywhere." Lucius smiled, tipping his head. "See you later, son."

Draco watched his father leave, then got up and walked into the bedchamber, closing and locking the door behind him.


	5. Carpe Noctem, Harry

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, (other pairings added as story continues))

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: Mature, R, Adult – rated for language explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised.

**A/N's: **Uh-oh, Draco, you bad boy, where do you think you're going? LOL. So, what do you guys think so far? C'mon, give me a sign, is anyone reading this? Should I continue? Do you want to know what happens next?

Thanks! Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

"Lucius." Bane's eyes flashed. "Come in."

Lucius strode into the room. "It's done."

"Lucius, you old dog, you." Bane smirked. "Well, that didn't take long."

"If you don't mind my asking, how did you know she'd be down there?" Lucius settled himself into a chair and conjured the brandy that he had left behind on his desk.

Bane closed his eyes. "I don't know. I can see the Chamber in my mind. I saw her there." His eyes opened and Bane shook himself a little. "I can do lots of things I couldn't before."

"Welcome to your inheritance, Potter." Lucius looked at him over the rim of his glass. "So, my son stopped by."

"Oh?"

"He is wavering, but I have faith in Draco's survival instincts. He'll stay on the side of power."

"And you believe that's my side, eh Lucius?" Bane scoffed as he leaned against the fireplace. "And where is Draco now?"

"I left him in my chambers."

"Really?" Bane's eyes darkened. "You left him there with Ginny in such a . . . _vulnerable_ state?"

Lucius shrugged. "There's nothing he can do to her that she won't enjoy right now. It's not really my concern. Though Draco's usually not interested in touching my things."

Bane nodded slowly, his eyes still holding that dangerous glitter. He pulled Voldemort's wand out of his pocket, holding it aloft. "I found your present."

"Do you like it?" Lucius smirked.

Bane's fingers clenched and the wand snapped in two. "I have no use for it."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Draco leaned back against the closed door and crossed his arms over his chest. Ginny stirred. Draco whispered, "Wake up, little Red."

Ginny's eyes came open, though she didn't move. He could see her throat working as she tried to understand why he was standing there. Looking down, she pulled the satin sheet up higher on her chest, her cheeks coloring a deep red.

"Morning." Draco stepped away from the door. "Or evening, as it were."

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked, her throat scratchy.

"I live here. What are you doing here? Oh wait – fucking my father, that's right." Draco climbed the steps and sprawled himself across the foot of the bed, leaning on one elbow and curling to his side.

Ginny looked down, Draco's presence making her very aware of how naked she was under the sheet. When she had first realized who was standing in the room, she had the thought that Lucius had sent his son in to . . . to . . . well. In any case, her first reaction should have been disgust, shame, anger, something! Something other than what she had felt. Ginny asked again, "Why are you here?"

"Am I making you nervous?" Draco purred.

"A little." She half shrugged, trying to hold onto the sheet. His gaze drifted to her chest and her nipples instantly hardened.

"That's not all I'm making you," he observed. "I never figured you for this sort of girl, Gin."

"I didn't know you figured me for any sort of girl."

"I had the vague sense that you were some kind of goody-two-shoes, destined to marry the golden boy and have lots of chubby redheaded babies." Draco toyed with the sheet beneath his left hand, putting enough tension in the fabric to pull it slightly down her chest. She maintained her grip on the sheet enough to stay covered, but didn't pull it back up.

"I don't think I was the 'golden boy's' type," she murmured, looking pointedly at Draco.

"Boys, girls – it's all the same when you're like us."

"Us?"

"You and me. And the venerable Harry Potter – not that he'd ever admit to it."

"And what's wrong with us?"

"We're addicted to power – attracted to darkness." Draco smiled. "You'll have to forgive the poetics. I tend to romanticize what I can't change."

"And you think that I'm – like that, that I . . . " she trailed off. She had slept with Lucius Malfoy. Because she was sorry Tom Riddle was dead. Maybe Draco was right. And everything she had just done, the soreness in her throat, the bruises on her skin, it wasn't enough. Deep down she wanted more.

Draco's eyes captured her own, the knowing look in his eyes so tangible that she could almost read his thoughts. Ginny quelled the urge to start shaking. "It's not true."

"No?" In a lightning move, his body covered hers, the sheet sliding down to her waist. He pinned her hands to the mattress above her head.

Inside, a war raged. He shouldn't be doing this. Lucius' mocking words of pride echoed in his head. No matter what he tried to do, what side he tried to fight on, at the end of the day, after the battle, he was still a Malfoy. Lucius' heir. His best intentions ended up sinister, his good deeds always self serving.

"No, I'm not." Ginny stared up at him, her naked breasts pressed against his chest, his face so close to hers. Images of Lucius on top of her, holding her down, using her body, making her come over and over until she passed out, played in her head.

"Then why aren't you fighting?" Draco relaxed his grip on her wrists, but she didn't move. He lowered his lips to skim along her neck, teasing the bottom of her earlobe. "You would let me take you right now, if I wanted to."

"What would Harry think of you, then?" She tossed back. "Do you think he'd still have you, then?"

Fury seethed inside Draco. His silver eyes frosted. "Trying to change the subject, are we? Can't face what you've become?"

"And what is that?" She challenged, fully aware she was playing with fire. Her heart pounded.

"I could show you," he whispered. His grip tightened on her wrists. "Admit it – you want me."

"Never," she whispered.

Clasping both of her wrists in his left hand, he reached down and pulled the sheet from between them. Then he tangled his right hand in her hair, holding her head forcible in place, the way his father had. He bit softly into her earlobe and felt her naked body squirm.

"Spread your legs," he demanded.

Ginny complied.

"That's what I thought." Draco watched as Ginny's eyes watered and she looked away. Disgusted with himself, he climbed off the bed. "Be careful with my father. He might as well have offered you up to me on a silver platter."

Ginny looked at him wide eyed, not even bothering to cover herself. She struggled with the realization that not only would she have slept with Draco, but also she was upset that he wasn't going to finish what he started.

Draco shook his head. "Sorry, Gin." And left.

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Draco Apparated into his bedchamber in Slytherin, feeling dazed. His mind kept replaying what he had just done to Ginny and it made him sick inside.

"Did you fuck her?" A light flickered in the corner as Bane lit a cigarette, turning on the lamps in the room with a wave of his hand.

"Would you care?"

"I didn't think so." Bane smiled as he exhaled. "Not when your Father got there first."

Draco blanched. "What do you want, Potter? Or am I supposed to call you 'Black' now when I'm irritated with you?"

"Irritated? Is that what you are with me?" Bane smiled, his green eyes flashing through the black fringe that fell across his forehead.

"Something like that." Draco sighed.

Bane stood, prowling forward to stand in front of the blond. "You ever wonder what it would have been like – if we'd grown up in the same house? In Slytherin?"

"Sometimes," Draco admitted cautiously, taking a slight step back. Bane advanced, pushing Draco against the wall.

"If I hadn't met Ron on the train, if I hadn't begged the Sorting Hat not to put me in Slytherin. . ."

Draco's eyes flashed at that little admission.

"Would we have been friends?"

"Not likely. We were born to be rivals, Potter. It's probably for the best we weren't vying for the same territory."

"Do you still want me, Draco? Now that you know you're not going to die?" Bane asked softly.

"Shut up." Draco cupped Bane's face in his hands. "Just shut up." Draco covered Bane's mouth with his own, a deep, savage kiss full of confusion and pain. They moved backwards towards the bed.

"You said you'd follow me into Hell and back," Bane whispered as they fell back on the mattress.

"I meant it," Draco gasped, his hips arching upward as Band toppled him beneath his leather-clad body. Here, here was the punishment he had sought, the delicious pain he was seeking, the razor-edged perfection. He had been trying to inflict that pain on Ginny Weasley, but it had been an empty, hollow act. Now he directed it inward, welcomed the pain within himself, where he should have directed it all along. Draco surrendered. "Is this Hell then?"

"Yes, but which me did you follow?" Bane's soft laughter floated on the air.

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Hermione rose from her bath, the scent of roses enveloping her. She dried off and wrapped a thick, soft towel around her damp body before stepping back out into the bed chamber. Severus was seated in an thickly padded armchair, an open book on his lap.

Their apartment was decorated in black. And pale pink. An odd combination that somehow balanced out well. Rather like Severus and herself. She sat down on the plush ottoman next to his crossed feet and began brushing out her hair.

"What's wrong, Luv?" Severus asked huskily, taking in her furrowed expression.

"I haven't seen Ginny all day – I'm worried about her."

"You know, out here people go whole days without seeing certain other people," He explained carefully. "You're used to all your company being locked up in one place."

"Really? You think that's it?" Hermione bit her lip, unsure. She noticed that she kept all the doors in their apartment closed at all times, though it would feel more spacious if they were open. The shut and locked doors felt comfortable to her now. Enclosure was comfortable.

"If she's not at brunch tomorrow, we'll start to look for her," He promised.

"Alright then." She put the brush down in her lap. "So what did you and Dumbledore talk about today?"

"Nothing of consequence," he answered casually. "The upcoming semester."

"Nothing of consequence?" She questioned. "What are you hiding from me?"

Severus sighed.

"I was stuck in a cell with nothing to read but your face, Severus." Hermione put her hand on his knee. "Can't you tell me?"

"I will."

"Alright." She slowly climbed up his lap, sliding her arms around his neck. "But you have to make me a promise."

"Is that right?" His arms closed around her, his eyes drinking in her face, her cinnamon eyes, her perfect lips.

"Tell me a day before you think you should." She said solemnly. "It's always good to stay ahead of the game."

"As you wish." He bent to kiss her. Hooking a hand behind each knee, he lifted and positioned Hermione astride his lap, letting her towel fall to the floor. She returned his kiss with rapt abandon.

Standing up, he carried her in his arms to the bed. Gently, he laid her down, stripped off his robe and joined her. "Hermione? I love you."

Hermione trembled, her heart full. "I love you, Severus."

Severus proceeded to lose himself in her luscious young body, filled with gratitude to be alive, for the first time in his life.

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Harry tossed fitfully in his sleep, finally awaking with a start. He tried to hang onto the vestiges of his nightmare, but they eluded him as he came fully awake. The chamber, still filled with bunk-beds, seemed eerily still with just him in it. He looked over at the bunk that had been Ron's.

"Carpe Noctem, Harry."

"Remus?"

There sitting on Seamus' old bunk was Remus Lupin. "Hello, Harry."

"I thought you were dead."

"I am."

"Am I dreaming? Hallucinating?"

"We all see what we want to see, Harry."

"Yeah, thanks for the cryptic." Harry rubbed his eyes, peering again at his old friend and mentor. "What the hell does that mean?"

"A house divided against itself cannot stand."

Harry shook his head. "What house?"

"His house. Your house. Harry!" Remus was starting to fade, his voice sounding like it came from a distance.

"Remus!"

"Carpe Noctem, Harry . . ." And he was gone.


	6. Black on the Inside

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues))

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: Mature, R, Adult – rated for language explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised.

**A/N's: **Alright – just so every one knows– I am also working on the final chapter of Trading Spaces. It is coming. Soon. Before the 4th of July, I promise! BTW, if you'd like a copy of my playlist (sort of an unofficial soundtrack for the story) let me know, but you must, must listen to Marcy Playground's "Coming up from behind" when thinking about Bane. You can find it on Youtube.

Thanks! Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Draco regarded the Quidditch gear in front of him. He hadn't played Seeker since . . . it seemed another lifetime. He sighed and sat back down on the table across from the black sofa. Sitting here in the Slytherin Common Room, looking at Quidditch gear filled his mind with ghosts of the past. Draco sighed. He had never really wanted to play Quidditch – and definitely not Seeker. He had just wanted to beat Harry. And he didn't really want to play now – but Harry had asked him to.

"Something the matter, Draco?" Bane appeared, lounging in the archway at the base of the stairs. He was still dressed in black leather from head to toe, though it appeared to be a different set. Draco had to admit, Harry should have started wearing leather earlier, because Bane made it look damn good.

"Quidditch." Draco made a frustrated gesture at the padding and uniform in front of him.

"Aww, are we a little nervous about being beaten by me in public again?" Bane mocked. His eyes narrowed and flashed, his voice dripping an octave as he added, "They should see what I do to you in private."

Draco's grey eyes smoldered like charcoal embers. "Were you planning on showing them, then?"

"It'd be quite a debut." Bane smirked, stalking closer to Draco. "Unfortunately, that'll have to wait."

Draco raised a blond brow.

"I want to see what Dumbledore's going to say." Bane shrugged, and for the first time, his movement was signature Harry Potter.

"You're hoping he's going to say that you're both good?" Draco scoffed. There was a rage in the pit of Draco's stomach, that probably should have been aimed at himself. But thus was not Draco's nature. It was always easier to lash out at those around him when he made a mistake. Childish, yes, but the last time Draco had made a mistake, he'd been a child. Unless you counted being captured by the Bounty Hunter. What a place to start.

For a second, Draco imagined he saw a trace of pain in Bane's eyes, but it was gone before he could determine whether it was a trick of the shifting light playing across Bane's face. He knew Bane realized that he was probably the 'evil' of the two Harry's, though Draco didn't see it as quite that clear cut. For a second, Draco gave into the struggle raging through him. Why was he with this Harry? Was it as his father thought, that he instinctively sought power? Or was it that the other Harry had been distant, cold? There, but not interested? Was it that the 'good' Harry wouldn't want Draco?

"Not hoping. Just waiting to see." Bane frowned. "But I have a solution to your problem."

Draco's eyes widened, for a second wondering if Bane could read his thoughts.

"The Quidditch?" Bane prompted.

"Oh, right."

"You alright, mate?"

"A little under the weather, maybe."

"Well, then this will work out well for you. You take a break, and I'll be Draco for the rest of the day." Bane grinned. "Wouldn't you like to see you beat Harry Potter in Quidditch at least once before you die?"

"Piss off," Draco tossed out good-naturedly. He mulled the idea over. Usually, he preferred being the one performing the mischief in a classic bait and switch, but what was the worst that he could happen? He could wrestle with his internal struggle all he wanted, but Draco didn't lie to himself. He had made his decision, whatever the reason. His loyalties laid with Bane. "What did you have in mind?"

Bane conjured a steaming glass and a pair of scissors. "I'll just need a lock of your hair."

"Polyjuice Potion?"

"Enough to keep in a flask around my neck and be you all night." Bane winked and motioned for Draco to stand. Bane stepped behind Draco, setting the potion on the table. Grasping Draco's shoulders, he pulled the blond firmly against his chest. Bane braced his elbows on Draco's shoulder and ran his fingers through the platinum locks, being careful to snip a little where it wouldn't show.

Draco could feel his muscles begin to tremble, the heat from Bane's body emanating through him. Bane still smelled like Harry, like grass, and sun warmed skin, like a forest in the summer.

Draco turned, watching as Bane stirred the hairs into the poison, and poured the whole think into a flask with a bottomless charm. Bane tucked the flask under his soft leather vest and seemed satisfied. Draco had the thought that this was a student of Mad-Eye Moody.

Bane waved his hand at the gear on the sofa and it appeared on his body. "Alright, let's see if I can kick my own ass."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Draco admonished, wryly.

"That leaves me quite a bit of lee-way, don't you think?" Bane smirked and strolled out of the room.

Draco sat down on the sofa once more. When all was quiet for a few minutes, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at his cupped palm, whispering words in Latin that seemed to create a swirling ball of electricity. Finally, he turned and pretended to throw the energy bowl at the wall. It splattered and formed a kind of television picture on the blank wall.

Draco lit a cigarette and conjured a bowl of popcorn. Time to see what he was up to. The room was filled with the sounds of a cheering Quidditch crowd in a stadium. The picture focused in on a blond walking in Slytherin green towards the dressing rooms. Draco's eyes narrowed. His double didn't walk like him. No matter whom he pretended to be, Draco would know Bane's walk anywhere.

_Bane walked like he wore black on the inside._

"Bloody Hell."

The other Draco was approaching some girl in a short skirt, with long, long red hair. Ginny Weasley.

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Bane strolled forward with a lazy grace he felt befitted a Malfoy. He shifted his broader shoulders and rolled his neck, tousling his new blond locks. Ahead, a flash of red around a corner alerted him to the presence of Ginny Weasley. He smirked; so she had finally crawled out from under Lucius, huh? Bane slid up behind her, leaning over her shoulder.

"Hello, Gin."

"Oh!" Ginny shuddered and turned around. "Draco."

"Nice to see you . . . again," he purred.

Ginny cast a surreptitious look around. "Look, Draco – "

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"What secret?"

Bane smirked. "Though it's not going to be much of a secret if you keep dressing like that."

Ginny glared at him, raising her chin. Spitfire in her eyes, her posture hiding nothing, asking for attention, she was more than enticing, but then his tastes seemed a little jaded. She wore knee-high black boots, a very short, black leather skirt, split up on side and a clingy low-cut green cashmere sweater. And she was smoking.

"Cigarette's a little cliché, don't you think?" He stepped around her, casting a sultry look over his shoulder and under his lashes at her. "We get it – you're a bad girl. You can take the poster down now."

"Draco?"

"Yes?" He purred.

"Bite me." She blew smoke in his face.

"What's the matter, sweet? Are you mad at me this morning? I thought I behaved like a perfect gentleman."

"You did?"

"That's what I was given to believe," Bane gritted out. At least, that's what Draco had told him.

"If that's what you call being a gentleman." She scoffed.

"Well, my only example was my Father. I thought it would do."

The area around them was thinning out, people finding their seats for the game. Ginny found herself suddenly very alone with Draco.

"Look," she crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know exactly what happened last night – "

"You don't remember?" Bane curled an arm around her back, pulling her into his body heat. "Or were you fishing for a reminder?"

"Hardly, But if I was?" Her voice was a husky rasp, her eyes heated. Languidly, she wound her arms around his neck, arching her back to brush against his chest. "Think you could handle it?"

"If I wanted." His eyes narrowed. He hadn't expected this.

"Then again, it's going to be hard for you to live up to your father." She smirked. "But then, I'm sure you've heard that before."

"We both know, Gin," Bane's voice was low and intense. "That I could have fucked your brains out last night, not that my father left you with many."

"Oh, Draco. Why would I take on the boy, when I can have the man?" She laughed, her fingernails lightly scratching the back of her neck. "Narcissa was one lucky woman, by the way."

Bane was torn between his intense desire to know exactly what had transpired between this skinny little girl and Draco and the satisfaction he felt in getting a rise out of her, of causing Draco a little trouble, the thrill of wearing someone else's face. His actions had no consequences, at least not for him. Bane grinned: he could outplay her. There was no need to choose.

Bane slid his hand into her silky red tresses, his fingers curling around them, and bluffed. "What's really eating you, Gin? How much you liked what I did?" He leaned forward, his lips grazing her ear. "Or that I didn't finish."

"You bastard."

"Hardly." He tossed back at her, a knowing look in his eyes. "C'mon Gin, you know my Father. You fucked him."

"Fuck you." She spat, finally pushing away from him.

"Someday . . . if you're lucky." Bane turned on his heel and headed for the arena. He had a Quidditch game to win.

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Draco cursed. How had Bane known what had happened between him and Ginny last night? If there was one place he was sure was safe for secrets it was Lucius Malfoy's bedroom. That's why he'd slept with so many people there.

That's why Lucius had slept with so many people there.

His gaze drifted back to the wall, where the team captains were meeting on the field . . .

Harry strode confidently across the field, his eyes fixed on Draco walking toward him. Something seemed off about Draco. He paused a foot from the blond. "Malfoy."

"Potter," Draco drawled, his trademark smirk in place. Then he reached beneath his robes, casually pulling out a silver flask and taking a long pull.

Harry's eyes fixed on the action. He met Draco's eyes, and something in Harry's expression changed, hardened. "So, the teams – we're going by colors today. You're black, I'm white."

"Sounds right." Bane grinned as he tucked the flask back under his robes. He offered his hand. Harry grasped it, squeezing firmly. His hand felt frozen as he pulled it back. Bane never flinched, calling to him, "Good luck, mate."

Bane tilted his broom to the side, taking off and climbing astride as he had seen Draco do so many times before. Harry watched him ascend with determined eyes.

"Don't need luck, _mate_. Got skill." And Harry flew.

Harry on a broomstrick was an eagle on the breeze. He exploded through the air, a tour de force of power, agility and precision. He flew above the crowd, eliciting screams and cheers. Racing right behind him was Draco, flying better than he ever had before. Their eyes met and for a second Draco's seemed to flash green and the place where Harry's scar used to be tingled. Harry's eyes darkened. A golden flutter flitted between them. The snitch had been released and the chase was on! The seekers dazzled the cheering mass beneath them with acrobatic flips and hair pin turns as they flew. Draco swooped in front of Harry, forcing him to pull up short and nearly knocking him off his firebolt.

"Sorry!" The blond called. "All's fair in love and war, eh Potter?"

"So it is!" Harry set his jaw. He sped towards the other seeker, making an athletic leap to stand on his broom. At the last possible second, he kicked down, sending the broom under Draco and leapt over his head, landing on the broom once more. His hand outstretched, delicate gold wings peeking from between his fingers. He had grabbed the snitch directly over Draco's head.

"HARRY POTTER HAS THE GOLDEN SNITCH! WHITE TEAM WINS!"

Bane cursed, steering his broom towards the ground. He landed a few feet from where Harry stood triumphantly, waiting for the rest of his team to join him on the grass.

Harry crossed towards him, hand extended in good sportsmanship. Bane fought the well of fury rising inside him as he clasped Harry's hand. Harry gripped him, pulling him forward into a manly half hug. The arm around Bane's back tightened, holding him in place as Harry's lips touched his ear.

"You're not Draco."


	7. Lie to me Again

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues))

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: Mature, R, Adult – rated for language explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised.

**A/N's: **Alright – just so every one knows– I am also working on the final chapter of Trading Spaces. It is coming. Soon. Before the 4th of July, I promise! BTW, if you'd like a copy of my playlist (sort of an unofficial soundtrack for the story) let me know, but you must, must listen to Marcy Playground's "Coming up from behind" when thinking about Bane. You can find it on Youtube.

Thanks! Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Hermione sat at the Head Table, next to Severus, shifting restlessly in her heels, nervously fidgeting with the puffy black tulle skirt. Her wild curls were restrained, pulled tightly to the top of her head, with only a few renegades grazing her face. She had to admit, Severus looked damn good in a tux, and since she had convinced him to cut his hair, well, she wasn't the only former student looking at the retired professor.

The band was playing something low, rhythmic, and aching. It only increased the sense of tension that had crept into her neck. She sipped her wine, determined to let go of whatever was nagging at her brain.

"Stop thinking, luv," Severus whispered, dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder. "What is it? Too many people?"

"Yes. No. I'm – not sure." Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that a storm was coming. Her eyes sought out Draco, his platinum blond hair an easy target to seek. He too did wonderful things to a tuxedo. Tonight, he looked like Draco of old, in his element around rich and important people, born to charm with a silvered tongue slicker than his father's. She wasn't sure what had occurred out on the Quidditch field after the match, but for a moment, Draco had appeared to turn pale, before quitting the pitch without a word.

Now, as Hermione scanned the room, she noticed the space between Draco and Harry, a space that had little to do with the large physical distance between them.

"Hermione," Severus purred in her ear. "Get out of your head. Let it go."

"I'm worried about Harry . . . he just seems off lately."  
"Off how?"

"I don't know."

"All the time? He hasn't seemed right since . . . when? Forgive me," He backed up as she shot him a look. "I just mean, the Harry Potter you used to ride the Hogwarts Express with has been killing his former classmates off, one by one, in new and interesting manners. So, I'm not sure what your standard for comparison is."

"Point taken. And no, he's not always different, just sometimes . . ." She closed her eyes. "I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"Yes."

"Sorry."

"I forgive you. For now."

Ginny Weasley appeared at Hermione's side. She was dressed in a silver silk piece that clung to her curves and made her complexion glow. "Hey there."

"Hey, Gin." Hermione smiled. "Where you been?"

"Here, there . . . nowhere." Ginny looked down for a second. "Hey, sorry I just finished off the plans and then dumped them on you to execute."

"It's alright, I'm more than capable." Hermione noted the dodge of the question, but let it go. Everyone had secrets now.

"Quite a gala, I have to hand it to you." She smiled.

"To Hermione, good show." Severus raised his glass, mouth twisted in bemusement.

"To Hermione," Ginny smiled brightly as she lifted her glass.

"To me," Hermione blushed as she clinked her glass with theirs.

"Hey, what are we toasting?" Bane, still pretending to be Draco, drawled, coming close just as they ended their toast.

"The party." Hermione giggled as she stood up, a little tipsy. Severus smoothly stood beside her, reaching an arm out to steady her.

"Celebration of celebration – my favorite party theme." Bane raised his own glass and took a sip.

Ginny shifted, saying nothing. She had forgotten that Draco had befriended Hermione. It just didn't seem to reconcile itself well in her mind. The man that had been in her bed . . . in his father's bed . . . last night being friends with Hermione – didn't seem right.

Bane stepped closer, his knees brushing hers. Swallowing hard, she looked up into his steely eyes. A deep shiver moved through her, stronger than what she had felt the night before. He presented her his hand.

"Care to dance?"

"Excuse me?"

"Stand up. Dance with me," he commanded.

Ginny put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. Bane's strength propelled her into his arms, which he enclosed around her, pulling her up tightly against his chest. He walked backwards toward the dance floor, his face buried in her hair.

"Draco, what are you doing?" She whispered.

"What? Afraid people will talk?" He grinned savagely. "What are they going to say? That you're fucking a Malfoy?"

Ginny wound her arms around his neck, allowing him to move her body to the music as he wished. 'Were you born mean?"

"Probably." Bane confessed. "But that's not why I'm mean to you."

Around them, Ginny could hear the low hum of people whispering, could see them looking at her from the corners of her eye. "Why are you mean to me?"

"Because you want me to be."

"Yeah, and how do you want me to be?" She cocked her head to the side, blood-red hair dripping in front of her eyes. "Or is that, _who_ do you want me to be?"

"Clever girl. I have to hand it to Lucius, you learn fast." Bane's smile did not reach his eyes. Ginny had the passing thought that she had never heard Draco refer to his Father by his first name before. "But I'd caution you not to write checks your body isn't ready to cash." He held her away from his chest for a moment, slowly looking her up and down. "Not yet, anyway."

Tugging her back into his arms, he spun and dipped her slightly, forcing her to cling to his shoulders to retain her balance. Her heart beat sped up. "Admit it, I'm not the one you want to screw."

Bane laughed softly. "No, but you'll do."

"What is this? You trying to fuck with your father?" She fought a wave of heat as he pulled her tight to his hips, trailing a kiss or two along her shoulder.

"Why Ginny, I'm shocked. I had no idea you'd be interested in such a thing." Bane smirked. "Though I guess I should have known."

"You know what I meant. Are you messing with me to get to him?"

"You think this would piss him off?" Bane scoffed. "I could have you on the cake table, and he wouldn't care. Lucius shares well with others."

She bit her lip.

"What?" He asked, his voice coaxing.

"I was just wondering." She paused, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "If you'd ever . . .done anything like that."

"I could give you that information, but it's going to cost you."

"Start moving the cake."

"Excuse me?"

"I haven't had a piece yet." She looked at him with wide innocent eyes. "Sex makes me hungry."

"I had more of an 'exchange of information' sort of deal worked out, but a man can hardly refuse that kind of deal, especially at such a price." Damn, she had called his bluff.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"How much farther did you want last night to go?"

'Keep your information. I'm not that interested."

"Could have fooled me."

"I know." She smirked. The song ended and he escorted her back to the table, where Hermione and Severus were still sitting.

"Hey Gin." Hermione smiled, having finally decided not to worry any more tonight. Severus was right, she deserved a night off. "We were just going to get some cake, you want a piece?"

Bane raised Ginny's hands to his mouth, brushing his lips across her knuckles. "Yeah, Gin. Want a piece?"

With a slight bow, he released her hand and walked away, his laughter echoing behind him.

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

"Malfoy." Harry finally cornered the blond on the patio. Behind Harry there was light and music, laughter and dancing. Behind Draco laid shadow and quiet, secrets and darkness.

"Potter." The blond nodded genially. "Having a good time?"

"Who are you?" Harry crossed his arms over his chest. The light poured into the patio-area from the large glass doors, muted by wispy curtains. Harry appeared to be some kind of avenging angel, standing between Bane and the party. Bane could almost picture large white wings outspread behind Harry's shoulders.

"Who do you want me to be, Potter?" Bane laughed.

Harry was across the stone floor in an instant, his hand closing tightly around Bane's throat, propelling him against the marble rail that separated the patio from the gardens beyond them. "I asked you a question."

"What are you going to do, Potter? Kill me right here, with all of these people watching?"

"Wouldn't be the first time." Harry tightened his grip, feeling the gentle flutter of Bane's throat working against the constriction. "Think anyone would miss you?"

"Well, there's not a lot of love for Malfoy's these days . . . "

"Lie to me again, and I'll snap your neck right here." Harry reached his left hand into the other man's tuxedo jacket, pulling out the flask he'd known was there. "You think I wouldn't notice? Who do you take me for?"

Harry hurled the flask deep into the darkness of the garden. He leaned his body weight heavily into the fake Draco, his entire forearm buried in his chest, his face inches from his. Bane would have laughed in his face if he could breathe. He smirked instead. _I'm not afraid of you._

Harry's smile deepened, enjoying this, feeling on solid ground for the first time since he had defeated Voldemort. Here was familiar, here was comforting – violence, threats and pain, yes, bring it on. "I've got all night. We'll just wait here and see who you are."

In a sudden burst of moment, Bane threw Harry off, reversing their places. He leaned in, his cheek brushing Harry's face, his lips grazing Harry's ear as he whispered, "You know who I am, Potter."

"You're not Riddle." Harry's eyes narrowed, not sure how he knew this to be true, but this was not the Dark Lord reincarnated. This man's power felt different, familiar . . .

The blond was starting to fade from the fake Draco's hair. Harry leaned back on the rail, slowly shifting his weight to his arms, ignoring his depleting store of oxygen and the cold hand clasped around his neck.

"No, Riddle's dead." Bane looked at Harry's face and for a moment, felt frozen in place. In the worst of his self-loathing, he might have liked to have been in exactly this position, with the opportunity to break his own neck between his hands.

Harry felt the heavy ring of truth in the statement. He had known that, known that in the instant before he had been struck by that lightning bolt, while he stood there, sword in hand, Draco by his side, Death Eaters cowering at his feet. How had he let Dumbledore convince him otherwise?

Harry balanced on the balls of his feet, the majority of his weight now shifted to his arms. Throwing his weight backwards, he broke the other man's grip on his throat and used the momentum to bring his legs up and plant both feet firmly in Bane's chest. Bane landed hard on the stone floor, Harry standing firmly on his chest. Reaching behind himself, Harry pulled the sword of Gryffindor out of an invisible sheath strapped to his back and concealed with a charm.

Harry tucked the tip of the sword under the corner of the pretend Draco's jaw. "You're next. Now, who the bloody hell are you?"

"Why, Harry, I'm you." The rest of the potion faded away and Harry was left staring at his own face. "But you can call me Bane."

And with a wink, Bane vanished, leaving Harry alone with his sword in the courtyard.

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Dumbledore watched from the shadows of the garden, disappearing back up to his office before he could be spotted. Harry was a lot better at knowing when he was being watched than he had been as a student. Moody's constant vigilance seemed to have rubbed off on the boy.

He sent a message to Severus, letting him know that there had been something of a development.

Dumbledore began to pace. He had known that the other Harry was pretending to be Draco at the Quidditch game. There was no mistaking Harry's flying style, especially pitted against itself. He had hoped to keep that fact away from Harry for awhile longer. Now he was left with several dilemmas. But Dumbledore was used to plans being ruined, and he always had a back up plan.

He glanced down at his desk, where a scroll was creating the new student roster for the upcoming year. Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling as he read the names. Yes, he always had a back up plan.


	8. I Don't Play Nice

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues))

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: Mature, R, Adult – rated for language explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised.

**A/N's: **A quick note on Ginny in this story. She has become an important part of the story as a symbol of the corruption of innocence, and in this role works as a catalyst in the story. In other words, her character is a tool used by various other characters to achieve certain ends, and is a bridge for the third story in the series which I am currently considering. Let me know if you have any questions. Thanks! Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

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Lucius sat in his disheveled tuxedo, his bow tie undone, his shirt unbuttoned and his coat neatly folded on the back of his chair. A leather-bound book lay across his lap, and in his left hand he held his customary snifter of brandy.

Bane Apparated into Lucius' personal chambers, a rakish smile on his face. "Well, I was going to apologize for not bringing you back a piece of cake, but it looks like you made an appearance at the party after all. Tell me, who did you go as?"

"I should have gone as my son," Lucius didn't seem surprised to see him. "You seemed to be having a good time."

"How'd you know?"

"You walk differently than a Malfoy." Lucius shot him a look over his glass. "Dance differently, too."

"Are we getting a little territorial, then?" Bane smirked as he elegantly sprawled on the sofa, conjuring himself a drink. "Share, share, that's fair, right?"

"No point in getting territorial of a party favor." Lucius closed the book and it put itself back on his bookshelf. He quelled the anger that was eating at him every time he pictured how indecently close his 'son' had been dancing with Ginny.

"So you never told me how managed to rise from the dead, Lucius. Is that a House of Black trick?"

"I wasn't dead. I have developed an immunity to several kinds of venom and poison." Lucius smiled. "Just in case."

"I spent the last few years developing an immunity to iocane powder," Bane rattled off, somewhat surprised he could remember the movie. Innocent fun like movies seemed so far away, like he had watched them so long ago.

'Excuse me?"

"Nothing. It's a muggle thing, you wouldn't understand."Lucius mentally filed the information away. Muggles – immune to iocane poisoning, whatever that was. "So, your night ended early. You know it's suspicious for Draco to leave a party early."

"Yeah, I tried to kill myself, so I had to leave."

"I see."

"So, Lucius, care for a game of chess?" Bane conjured a marble chess set.

"As you wish." Lucius inclined his head. "Do you have a side preference?"

"I'll be white," Bane answered quickly. Lucius raised an eyebrow and Bane shrugged. "I've already been black today."

Bane started, making his move with little consideration.

"Do you always start with a knight?" Lucius inquired politely.

"Yes." Bane's eyes were focused on the board.

"Why? Most people start with a pawn."

"Because," said Bane. "I used to be one."

"A knight." Lucius nodded.

"No, a pawn."

As they played, Bane found Lucius to be an excellent chess player, the best challenge he had been presented with since Mad-eyed Moody. For awhile they were quiet, playing in silence, until Bane noticed Lucius checking his pocket watch.

"Got somewhere to be tonight? Or is playing chess with me really that dull?"

"Well, I have already discovered most of your weaknesses, and while exploiting them pleases me greatly, I had a different kind of pleasure in mind for tonight." Lucius sipped his brandy.

"Ginny Weasley, I presume," Bane drawled. "And what weaknesses?'

"She'll do for tonight," Lucius said dismissively. "And you under-use your queen. You let her get too far away from your king."

"Shouldn't she already be here?" Bane asked. "And that's part of my strategy, not a weakness."

"She'll be here soon enough. And how is that strategy?"

"You see, in chess when you lose a piece, you don't just lose that piece, you also lose the square. An enemy now occupies the territory. The queen is a powerful weapon, and thus often targeted. If you keep your queen close to your king and lose her, you let your enemies in the back door," Bane explained softly.

"Something worrying you, Bane? Concerned about my virtue?"

"Just a little friendly advice. And virtue, Lucius?" Bane smirked.

"Haven't you heard? The old Lucius died, I'm a brand new man." Lucius grinned.

"No, I'm a brand new man." Bane laughed. "Just see that your queen isn't playing both sides of the board."

"That's why you keep her close to king and castle." Lucius gestured at the board.

"You know the nice thing about chess, Lucius? Your pieces can't turn on you. You can sacrifice a queen, trade her back for a pawn, and she's still on your side."

"Precisely where I intend to keep her." Lucius stated firmly. "Are you questioning my motives or my resolve?"

"Your strategy. Trusting Ginny could be the end of you, see? Weasley's are the temperamental violent type.""She's under my control."

"You really think so?" Bane shrugged. "It's your board for now, mate. Run it how you like."

"For now?"

There was a soft knock at the door.

"Speak of the she-devil." Bane grinned. "Well, we'll have to finish this game later. Wouldn't do for Harry Potter to be seen with the likes of you. No offense."

"None taken."

Bane swirled an invisibility cloak around his shoulders. "I'll just let myself out, then."

When Lucius opened the door to let Ginny in, he was careful to leave enough time for Bane to slip out the door. Ginny was barely in the door before she was kissing Lucius desperately. As Bane brushed past the red head and heard the door close behind him, he murmured, "That's the problem with the queen, mate. She's just so damn close."

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Harry stood on the patio for a long time, trying to consider what just had happened. If the other him wasn't Tom Riddle reincarnated in some way, then what did that mean? What if they were both Harry Potter? And if not, who the hell was going around looking like him? And did this have something to do with his scar disappearing? He frowned. All of these questions were coming up now and he had the nagging feeling that they should have come up before. Why hadn't he asked Dumbledore any of these things? And why the hell had his alter ego chosen such a melodramatic nom de plume? Harry would never do that – well, except for the time that he had been know as the Bounty Hunter.

He stared at the spot where the fake Draco had disappeared and cursed. If that Draco was fake – where was the real Draco? His heart raced a little as he considered the possibility that the other Harry – or Bane – had hurt Draco. He clenched his fists. No one was going to touch Draco – hurt anybody he cared about again. Not even himself.

As Harry headed up to his rooms to weapon up and search for Draco, he never considered the fact that he had just placed Draco Malfoy on the list of people he cared about. His mind was focused on his destination – the Slytherin Common Room.

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Bane strolled through the party in his invisibility cloak, enjoying being able to watch people while they were unaware. He had come across Hermione and Snape in a compromising situation outside of the old Potions Classroom. He had watched for awhile before they adjourned inside the room, he assumed to make use of the great big teacher's desk. Bane grinned: nothing more classic than the naughty school girl and the strict professor.

His other self had sent him a little off kilter. He was fairly certain now that the other Harry was evil. After all, he had attacked him out of nowhere. Bane knew that Harry wasn't Tom Riddle, but hadn't the slightest clue who he actually was. Maybe he really had just been split in two. In which case, Bane was going to have to find someway to rejoin with that asshole. He frowned, not liking the prospect. Bane was happy with himself. He liked the way he was, the way he felt now – he had no desire to change. But there could only be one Harry Potter.

There was only one decision he could make. Even though he was fairly certain that they were the same person split in two, Bane would have to kill Harry.

His decision made, Bane headed for Slytherin, where Draco awaited him. All of that rough handling and fighting outside had awoken his hunger for a different kind of rough handling. He smirked. A lot of it.

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Harry burst through the door to the Slytherin Common Room, Sword of Gryffindor tightly clasped in his hand. "Draco!"

"I'm right here, Potter." Draco stood up from his seat by the fire, a bemused expression on his face.

Harry looked confused for a moment. "Are you . . . alright?"

"A little dark and twisted, but I'm told it's genetic." Draco smirked. "That's a great big honking sword you got there, Potter. Planning on a little after dinner beheading, were we?"

"Something like that." Harry lowered the sword so the tip rested on the ground. "What happened to you?"

"An evening of well-deserved rest and relaxation. What happened to you?"

"That's not what I meant. The other Harry was pretending to be you tonight at the ball. I thought that he must have done something to you . . . but obviously I was mistaken." Harry frowned, beginning to realize that the other Harry must have had Draco's cooperation.

The Common Room door banged open again, and Bane strolled though the doorway in his customary dramatic fashion. "Draco!"

"Well, this must be my lucky day. Two of you at the same time." Draco grinned wickedly.

"What are _you_ doing here?" The Potters demanded of each other.

"Visiting Draco," Harry spat.

"I live here," Bane replied pompously.

"Do you?" Harry shot a look at Draco, who shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Do you always make a dramatic entrance when you come home?"  
"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying, _I_ was never that much of an attention whore."

"I am NOT!" Bane objected in indignation.

"You always open both doors when you enter a room?" Harry asked pointedly. "Whatever happened to being stealthy and not attracting attention to yourself?"

"Why bother? There's no one to hide from anymore – no one who can hurt me – you – us – anymore." Bane glared at his counterpart.

"As entertaining as this journey into the land of Potter's troubled psyche is, and it is, really, very entertaining," Draco drawled. "Don't you feel a little silly fighting with yourself?"

"Shut up, Draco!" They both snapped.

"My bad." Draco bowed his head. "Please, continue."

"Speaking of your bad, did you forget to mention something about your living arrangements to me?"

"I'm sorry, Potter," Draco bit back. "I wasn't under the impression that I had to inform you of my living arrangements. I thought you made it very clear that you don't like or need me around."

"I did," Both Potters admitted softly.

"Can you two stop that? The surround sound is beginning to freak me out a little." Draco sighed, seating himself by the fire once more.

"So, you've chosen sides then?" Harry demanded, his eyes pinning Draco's.

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but Bane cut him off with a quick, "Yes, he has."

"And apparently, you two can handle my portion of the conversation as well. Perhaps I should go catch up on some recreational reading, as I'm not really necessary here." Draco folded his arms over his chest.

"No need. I'm done here." Harry looked around in disgust, then spat, "He can have you."

"I already knew that, but there are more pressing matters we should discuss before you rush off, Potter," Bane cautioned, ignoring Draco's huff of resentment.

Harry raised his sword ever so slightly, a grin across his mouth. "Discussion is really pointless, don't you think?"

"Pointy objects away, Mr. All Fight and No Think." Bane sighed. "Look, are you ready to tell everyone about me, yet?"

"I was planning on announcing it at your burial," Harry grinned.

"That's what I thought. So, for right now, I think it's in all of our best interests, if you and Draco play nice for now." Bane moved to stand behind Draco, placing his hands on his shoulders in a clear show of ownership. "Otherwise, they'll notice that something's wrong."

"Fine," Harry smirked, slowly prowling towards the two until he came to a stop just in front of Draco. Bracing his hands on the chair arms, he leaned down, his nose inches from Draco's face. He watched as Draco's breath caught and his pupils dilated with a smug look of satisfaction. "Of course, that begs the question, how nice do you want me to play?"

Bane's face tightened in possessive anger, though all he said was, "That's up to Draco."

"So tell me, Draco." Harry smirked. "How nice do you want to play?"

Harry stood up and headed for the door, leaving Bane and Draco staring after him, both of them speechless for a moment. Just before he walked out the door, Draco stood, calling out, "I think you've forgotten, Potter. I don't play nice." Draco tossed Harry a wicked smile as he paused at the door. "And neither do you."


	9. At Your Service

Title: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues))

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: Mature, R, Adult – rated for language explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised.

**A/N's: **This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful, amazing, beautiful and awesome beta – you rock, babe!

Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

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Ginny looked around the room, finding the other side of Lucius' bed empty. She still wasn't sure why she had come last night. Maybe it was the incident with Draco, the reminder of it at the Quidditch Game, or the weird dance during the ball. Being around Draco made Ginny feel unclean.

So why had she come to Lucius? There was a time not long ago when she would have thought that climbing into bed with a Malfoy would be a sure way to just get more yuck on you, not take it off. But there was something . . . not cleansing, more like purifying, about being with Lucius. Having sex with him was like burning down a dirty house to clean it. It felt . . . punitive and good.

Ginny frowned, sitting up and pulling her knees close to her chest. There was something missing from her interaction with Lucius though. It was leaving her restless and unsatisfied. Not physically, but . . . and then it came to her, full blown epiphany. She didn't want to be possessed by power, she wanted to possess power. There was the seduction.

Harry must have had this epiphany before he went Bounty Hunter, Ginny realized. Tired of being a victim, tired of being hurt, of being strong enough to "take it". Screw taking it. Power was about being able to give it. Lucius had certainly sounded like he understood her attraction to power that first night, but he had misunderstood something. Riddle had fascinated her, not just because she felt overwhelmed and possessed by his power, dark though it might be, but because he had shared it with her. He had given her the power to open the Chamber of Secrets, had concealed her and protected her, given her _his power_ at times, though not the means to control it.

In that instant, Ginny knew that her hunger had little to do with a need to be punished. She hungered to prove herself. She wanted to learn. She wanted to be the thing that scared people in the night, instead of being the scared one. Tom had given her a taste of the power. _Now she wanted the control._ And of course, this want was where the need to be punished came in – she felt guilty about wanting the power. However, as Lucius had so kindly provided the punishment, she could cleanse her guilt and move on with other pursuits.

Looking around Lucius' private chambers with new eyes, she realized that she had positioned herself perfectly for her new quest. Her eyes greedily drank in Lucius' many, many bookshelves, filled with titles the ministry should probably be alerted about. Perfect.

Listening for the sound of the shower, Ginny hopped out of bed, wrapped herself in Lucius' bathrobe, so he would call for her and it when he got out, and began to peruse the books before her. She, unlike her brothers, had always been a quick study and a good learner. Perhaps it was time to become a student again.

Choosing a black leather volume from the shelf, she flipped it open, running a finger idly down the page she had randomly chosen. She felt a shiver of power run through her fingers up her arm and down the spine. She sank to the floor and began to read, unaware of the blackness that was sweeping through her blood.

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Albus Dumbledore stared deeply into the flames in the fireplace, considering the letter that was before him. The letter was from the most prominent seer that the world had ever known – though he was now presumed dead by most wizards. Dumbledore had called in a rather large favor to ascertain the answers he needed.

Tom Riddle was dead. Voldemort had ceased to exist. Dumbledore could count on one hand the number of times that he had been wrong, but he still took the moment with grace. He needed to tell Harry. And the other Harry. Perhaps it was time he paid a visit to Slytherin.

Standing, he once again picked up the scroll that listed the incoming Hogwarts' students. The school had been closed for awhile, so the list was longer than usual, listing students too old to be in their first year of magical courses. He would have to arrange a special team of teachers to take on this new challenge. His sharp eyes focused once more on the two names that had been on his mind since they appeared.

_Ms. Piper Vates._

_Mr. Prophet Vates._

Albus thoughtfully stroked his beard. Yes, it was time to talk to the two Harry's.

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_I think you've forgotten, Potter. I don't play nice. And neither do you._

The words echoed in Harry's head, bringing an answering smirk to his face. "I don't play at all."

Bane gazed at him with appraising eyes. It was rather disconcerting for Harry watching the other version of himself. Bane was a little creepy. He idly wondered if that was how the other Aurors had felt about the Bounty Hunter. Was Bane what had scared them – the dark side of Harry? Or was he something more sinister than that?

"Is that so?" Draco drawled. "Do we get some action then, or shall we just continue with the witty repartee? Because I'm running out of cliché's to throw the word 'play' into."

Harry stalked back across the room, reaching out to grasp Draco's shirt collar and hauling him against his body. Draco was once again taken aback by how strong Harry had become. Harry's mouth descended on the blond's, taking his lips in a vicious kiss.

Bane's fists clenched in anger, but before he could take action, there was a loud pop followed by a purposeful throat clearing.

"Ah, good you're all here. Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but there are pressing matters to be dealt with. I didn't feel like they could wait until morning." Albus Dumbledore stood in the middle of the common room, his eyes twinkling.

"Well, that was unexpected," Draco drawled as Harry released him.

Bane stared at Hogwarts' Headmaster, with something akin to fear churning in his stomach. His lips tightened and he said nothing.

Harry regarded the older man, anger still burning in his eyes. "You lied to me."

"I never lied to you, Harry." Albus' eyes were kind. "I was simply mistaken. Surely you've been mistaken before."

"He's not Voldemort," Harry added mulishly.

"I know." Dumbledore drew his wand and conjured a table topped with a steaming kettle, cups and biscuits. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss, the four of us."

Suspicion in their eyes, the three men sat at the round table, each guarding their emotions carefully.

"What is this all about?" Draco asked, ignoring his identical companions who seemed content to remain silent and see what happened.

"The new year at Hogwarts is about to begin, and I would like to offer all three of you a position." Dumbledore smiled. "I think this is going to be a very revealing year."

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Hermione climbed out of the warm bed, leaving Severus peacefully sleeping. She plucked her wand from beneath her pillow and tucked it into the pocket of the cobalt blue velvet robe pooled on the floor, wrapping herself in the garment. She couldn't explain the restlessness rolling through her. Something in the wind was changing. She walked out of the bedroom and into the common room of the Head of Ravenclaw's apartment, where she and Severus had set up house. He had no desire to relive the bad memories he had associated with Slytherin, nor she the desire to deal with the ghosts of the past that haunted Gryffindor Tower where she could still feel Ron's presence so strongly, and since Severus had flatly refused to inhabit Hufflepuff, they had chosen Ravenclaw. A quick flick of her wand lit the fire, lending the room a warm glow.

Hermione moved to the window, taking in the milky pools of moonlight sliding over the grounds. A sultry wind was howling through the castle. She gripped the windowsill as a wave of dizziness overtook her, and she began to shake. A loud rushing sound pounded through her ears and the world went black for a second.

When her vision cleared, she was still in the Ravenclaw apartment, but she could tell that something had changed. The moon was gone. Turning, she found the furnishings of the room to be changed. Seated in a wing backed chair by the fire sat a woman, wearing midnight blue robes. Her dark hair fell in perfect, shiny curls around her heart-shaped face. Cinnamon eyes burned with intelligence in her pale face. In one elegant hand she clutched a hot cup of something. Her fingers were trembling.

The door opened, and a tall dark haired man walked into the room. Something about the man reminded Hermione of the pictures she had seen of young Tom Riddle, with his black hair and black eyes, handsome face unsmiling.

"Rowena," the man said in greeting, moving to sit on the edge opposite the dark-haired woman.

"Salazar," she replied in greeting. "How is Helga?"

"The same," he said shortly. "We have to do something. He must be stopped."

Rowena visible shuddered. "I know . . . but she'll never let us—"

"We can't consider her feelings anymore, his hold on her is too strong, and I fear, unnatural."

"What are you saying?" Her eyes were shrewd, her face calm despite the trembling that had increased.

"He must be killed." The man that Hermione could only assume was Salazar Slytherin, did not waver at Rowena's shocked reaction. "I have spoken with Godric. He agrees."

"I see." Rowena took a sip of her cup. "And if he cannot be killed?"

"You think –"

"I know. We cannot kill him." She spoke with conviction. Hermione could feel a shiver building insider her, but could not move, could not speak. She was no more able to participate in the scene before her than a ghost could participate in a Hogwarts' feast.

"Then we use the time-turner." Salazar sat back. "I had hoped it would not come to that."

"Where do we send him?" Rowena's laugh was humorless. "Which of our children do we give this affliction to?"

"The strongest, smartest that we can find." Salazar stood, crossing the distance between the two chairs and offering Rowena a hand. She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet and into his arms. "We have no choice."

Rowena laid her head on Salazar's shoulder, accepting his embrace. "And what about Helga?"

"I have a plan." Salazar's eyes flashed dangerously. "But I will need your help."

"Of course." Rowena pulled back just far enough to set her forehead against his. "As always, I am at your service."

"I know you are," Salazar breathed the words into her hair. "For now."

"Salazar . . ."

"Shh . . . it's ok." He stepped away from her, swallowing visibly. "Let's go."

"Now?"

A ghost of a smile played at Salazar's lips, and the two started to fade from Hermione's sight, leaving Slytherin's last words to sound in an empty room once more restored to the present, as Hermione slid to the floor in a dead faint.

"Carpe Noctem, Rowena."

TBC . . .


	10. Craziest, Reckless, Incredibly Idiotic

Title: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White Author: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues))

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: _**Mature, R, Adult – rated for language, explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised. Not intended for underage readers.**_

**A/N's: **So, let me know how you like this, and if you have any speculations about what's about to happen. I hope this all makes sense. And, I'm serious about the rating. We're definitely up to the adult content!

Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

**Chapter Title: **Craziest, Most Dangerous, Reckless, Incredibly Idiotic

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Severus was awoken by the feeling of a small hand grasping his shoulder. He sat up, startled but holding perfectly still. Hermione was not beside him anymore, he didn't have to reach for her to know that. The dilution of her sweet scent was enough to make it clear. He heard a dull thud and rushed from the bed, out into the common room. Hermione lay crumpled on the floor, her blue robe pooling around her.

"Hermione!" He knelt at her side, gathering her little body into his arms, smoothing her hair back from her face, and feeling her pulse fluttering lightly.

She moaned a little and turned into his embrace, rubbing her face sleepily against his chest. "Mmmm . . . Severus?"

"I'm here, luv." He shifted his arm to support her back and pulled her into a sitting position, his arms staying around her for support. "What happened?"

"I fainted . . . and I dreamed . . . or no . . . I was awake . . . I think."

"I think you hit your head. You might have a concussion. Let's take you to the Hospital Wing." He began to gather her weight fully to him, when she tugged impatiently on his sleeve.

"I'm fine." She frowned, shaking her head a little. "I think I had a . . . a vision."

Severus stared at her, blinking in confusion. "I thought you didn't believe in the divinatory arts?"

"I don't." Hermione said firmly, wrinkling her nose at the thought. "But whatever just happened to me wasn't a dream."

Slowly, Severus climbed to his feet, gently helping her up as well and guiding her over to the couch, where he wrapped her up in the fuzzy blanket that was draped over the back. "How can you be so sure?"

Hermione watched him summon a house elf for some tea and toast, considering his question. "For one, I was awake. For two, it felt real, vivid, like I had accidentally Apparated somewhere. My dreams are never like that. My dreams are . . ." Her face darkened. "Dark, cold and vague, like emotional shadows of reality."

Snape nodded, remaining silent as the house elf returned with his requested refreshments. He knew that usually when Hermione dreamt, she had nightmares of the war. He waited until the house elf had deposited the tea tray on a small table to ask, "So, what did you see in this – vision?"

Hermione carefully repeated the events of she had witnessed, in her typical detailed way. Snape listened carefully, as he stared into the depths of his tea cup, trying to picture what she was describing. He remembered the feel of a hand on his shoulder, waking him up just before he heard Hermione hit the ground.

Dawn was creeping up, poking gilded fingers through the windows to tickle the shadows of the room by the time she had finished speaking. Severus stood, a grim look about his mouth. "Do you feel ok, now?"

"Yes, I'm fine. A little shaken, and confused, but fine," Hermione assured him.

"Why don't you go get dressed, while I contact the Headmaster? Perhaps Albus can shed some light on all this." Snape watched her go, his frown growing deeper. He might have dismissed this all as a crazy dream, if it had been anybody but Hermione, with her complete distaste for Divination, claiming to have had a vision. And if it truly was a vision of the Founders...Severus shuddered. He wasn't that fond of Divination himself – he certainly wasn't the type to trust in the less-than-exact magical art, but there was a shard of ice tracing shivers down his spine, and one thing he had learned to trust was his own instincts. And instinctively, he knew that there was something terribly, terribly wrong with the world right now.

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Ginny closed the book, letting the heavy tome carry her hands to her lap. She couldn't feel her feet anymore; they had fallen asleep curled beneath her body. She leaned back, letting her head rest against the bookshelf. Feeling a little hazy, she had just noticed that the shower was off when a hand closed around the back of her neck, the long, elegant fingers resting against her pulse.

"Catching up on a little recreational reading, were we?" Lucius purred dangerously.

Turning her head slightly in his firm grasp, Ginny's eyes widened in shock as she took in the tall, slightly damp blond man behind her. "Oh, I hadn't realized you were out of the shower yet."

"Obviously." His face was carefully blank. "Did you find what you were looking for, my dear?"  
"Just looking for a little something to pass the time," she returned evenly, her face betraying no fear, though inwardly a tremor was running through her. She willed her fingers not to shake as he plucked the leather bound book from her numb hands.

"I'm not sure such a book is suitable for a young Weasley like yourself."

"Why, do you have the fifteen year old self of some other dark lord hidden in there?" She batted her lashes at him.

His lips twitched. "No, I do not."

"Instructions on how to do so?"

"No."

"Then what's so special about that book? I can read – was there something else required to discover its contents?"

"I suppose not."

"Then perhaps you just don't like me touching your stuff?" Ginny licked her lips. "Is that it, Lucius? Are you that territorial?"

"Perhaps." His eyes darkened with interest at her flirtatiously seductive tone.

"I think I kind of like that about you," she said in a breathless voice. "Too bad you don't get that territorial over me."

"I didn't realize that was something you were looking for." Lucius tightened his grasp on her neck. "My apologies – I didn't mean to be so remiss."

"Not that it wasn't sweet – you offering me to your son like that. It's nice to see a family that shares." Her eyes flashed. "But I do have some standards."

"I see. That's my son you're talking about not meeting your standards," He warned lightly, setting the book aside on the carpet, where it magically whisked itself back to the proper shelf.

"And that was my body you tried to give him," she shot back.

"No – as we just discussed. This," he paused to grasp her wrists tightly in each hand. "Is my body. To do with as I please."

"You think so." Ginny pulled herself lightly from his grip, not bothering to rise. "But you think so because I let you. Allow me to correct that assumption."

Lucius watched her with a mix of curiosity and amusement in his slate grey eyes. She moved to her knees, still staring up at him, a look of wide-eyed innocence in her eyes. He saw the tip of her wand a second before she spoke, but not quite soon enough.

"Petrificus Totalus." Ginny stood, her eyes not leaving the face of the man frozen before her. She twirled her wand through her fingers as she slowly circled him. "My body is my own to play with."

With a flick of her wand, Ginny levitated Lucius onto the bed, and secured his hands with the velvet-lined manacles already secured to the bedposts. "And while your bed is quite the playground, and I share – ," she paused to climb onto the bed between his legs, "_very_ well with others, you will not choose who those others are. I am not a party favor to be passed around your dubious social circle."

She set the tip of her wand against his chin. "Finite Incatatum."

Lucius stretched his limbs experimentally, testing the reach of his mobility in the restraints. He nodded his head at her in a manner she took to be impressed.

"Do you understand?" Ginny shrugged her shoulders, letting Lucius' robe slip off her body and pool around her knees in a bright red puddle.

"I do," he replied silkily, something akin to pride in his tone. Ginny glared at him, and pulled the belt from the discarded robe on the floor with a flourish. Being careful to brush the tips of her breasts over his chest as she did so, Ginny climbed astride Lucius' hips and wrapped the wide terry cloth belt around his eyes, tying it in the back with a vicious yank.

"Good," she whispered in his ear. "Then you still get to play."

Ginny pressed her lips firmly to his for a second, then let them trail down his chin, neck and slowly down his chest. She let the ends of her crimson hair slide over his skin. Her sharp nails scratched over the protruding bumps of his hip bones, brushing her open mouth over his navel. His muscles jumped involuntarily and she laughed huskily. Reaching out, Ginny wrapped her pale, delicate hand around the rock hard length of his cock, a wide smirk on her face as the pulsing erection jumped and grew in her grasp.

"You do still want to play, don't you, Lucius?" She asked sweetly, softly stroking him.

"Yes," he hissed, bucking his hips lightly.

"Good." Ginny smiled again and scooted further down the bed so that she knelt between his legs once more. She brought her lips close to his cock, still steadily stroking him. She breathed her next words over the blushing head. "Do you still want me?"

"Yes." He was gritting his teeth, and yet there was still the trace of the same superior smirk on his face. Ginny scowled, she'd have to try harder.

"Good." She slowly took his full length into her mouth, until her lips were around the base of his cock, then eased back up, feeling him buck and gasp beneath her. Ginny placed her hands on Lucius's chest, shifting her weight forward to straddle his hips, reaching down to adjust his erection to fit against her, rubbing her hips up and down to slide his cock against her slick, wet folds.

"How badly do you want me?" Ginny grasped his hard shaft and began rubbing the soft head of it against her clit, gasping a little herself as a sweet ache filled her with liquid heat.

"Badly," he confessed, his hips shifting, arms straining now against their restraints.

"What will you give me in return?" She asked, following the question with a little moan.

"I didn't realize that you expected payment." Lucius smirked again, though the expression was now dripping with tension and frustration. "Were you hoping for a few galleons on the bedside table, or was there something specific you wanted?"

"That wasn't nice, Lucius. You inferred that I'm a prostitute." Ginny balanced herself carefully, and reached behind herself with her free hand to wrap her fingers around his balls, squeezing just a touch too roughly. "Say you're sorry."

Lucius groaned aloud. "M-my apologies."

Ginny smiled. "That's better." She positioned the head of his cock at her soaking entrance. "I was just looking for a small token of your appreciation. A sign that you don't take my body for granted. You understand?"

"I understand," he panted.

"So, I did have something in mind."

"Yes?"

"Good answer," she chuckled. Her legs were started to shake from holding her crouched position. "I want to be able to read your books. Whenever I want."

"No."

"No?" Her hand tightened around his cock, pumping him slowly. "Are you sure?"

"Not . . . not all of them." He wet his lips.

"Not all of them? Ah, Lucius. You don't have naughty books that you're not supposed to, do you?" She slowly let just the head of his penis sink into her.

"Just a few," he moaned.

"But I can read all of the rest?" She asked teasingly.

"Yes."

Ginny smirked, but before the expression fully rolled across her lips, she felt his hands come down hard on her hips. Ginny gasped, wondering how he had gotten free. Briefly it occurred to her that the chains on his bed probably responded to his commands. His fingers digging deeply into her skin, Lucius forced her body downwards, impaling the pale beauty on his hard cock, enjoying the shriek she let out.

Tearing the robe belt from his eyes, Lucius swiftly rolled them over, pinning her hands to the mattress above her head as his body trapped hers beneath it. He snarled low in the back of his throat.

"Uh-oh," she bit her lip, shyly. "I'm in trouble."

"Yes, you are," he replied, trying to keep his tone as serious as possible.

"I've been a bad, bad girl." She rolled her hips against his, squeezing her pussy muscles around his steely length.

"I'll think of some way to punish you." He slowly thrust in and out of her, resisting the urge to pound her into the mattress until she screamed.

"I can't wait." Her eyes twinkled with wicked mischief as she moved against him, her mouth curved with sinful glee. When she licked her lips as she continued to move against him, he lost control. Thrusting wildly into her, he let go of her hands to reach underneath her. His fingers wrapped around her hips, pressing into her ass as he pumped his cock hard into the little redhead.

Laughing viciously, she met every thrust of his hips, whispering in his ear, urging him on, taunting him. "Oh, yeah. Come on, Malfoy, you can fuck me harder than that! Is that all you got? Oh . . . oh . . . oh, _yeah_!"

"You like that, do you?" He panted against her head.

"Yes!"

"You want to come?"

"Yes, oh – yes!"

"Beg." He stilled his hips and she nearly screamed in frustration.

"Bastard!"

"That's not very nice!" He swiveled his hips and paused again.

"Please!!"

"Please, what?"

"Please let me come?" Her hips gyrated wildly as she tried to get the friction she needed.

"Please let me come, what?" He slid his other hand across her hips, and down to her dripping center, brushing softly over her clit. His eyes told her what he wanted.

"Please let me come . . . Master!"

"Good girl."

He freed one hand to lay across her mouth, silencing the comments as he fiercely thrust, until her muffled moans grew in intensity, and her whole body tensed and relaxed. As the walls of her pussy convulsed around him, Lucius came hard inside her, panting for breath. He lowered his sweaty forehead to rest against hers for a second, before pulling back to look at her. He cupped her face and stared deeply into her eyes as if searching for something. "How'd you like that?"

Ginny smiled. "Can we do it again?"

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

"All three of us?" Draco frowned. "I really wasn't looking for a job . . . what with being extremely wealthy and all that."

Dumbledore looked at him wordlessly. When Draco just returned his stare with a raised brow, Harry kicked him under the table, Bane ducking his head to hold back his laughter.

"But when you present such a strong argument, perhaps I could make the time," Draco conceded.

"And just what position were you going to offer me?" Bane asked, shrewdly. "Hopefully something that doesn't have me trying to kill myself."

Harry resisted the urge to defend the old Headmaster as he realized that he agreed with Bane's sentiment. Dumbledore had sent Harry to essentially kill himself, which left Harry with two explanations to choose from. One, Dumbledore was wrong – and thus fallible, and could not be trusted. Or two, Dumbledore had known the truth, and, assuming that Harry would become the next Dark Lord, had sent him to destroy himself, and thus could not be trusted. He turned expectant eyes on Dumbledore.

"Actually, it does." Dumbledore smiled, though the customary twinkle was missing from his blue eyes. "I would like for the two of you to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Who better to teach dueling than a teacher who can literally duel himself."

"No," Harry said.

"I'm sorry?" Albus looked flustered. Draco peered at the elder wizard, never having seen the man show surprise.

"No, I won't do it." Harry sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine. You go find somewhere else to live, and I'll teach." Bane mirrored Harry's position.

"I don't think so. You may be me, but you're dangerous, and possibly unhinged. You should not be allowed around children," Harry argued.

"Well then, you'll just have to stay here and keep me in line, won't you?" Bane bit back. "Ever the long-suffering hero, eh Harry?"

"And you're not?" Harry scoffed.

"No," Bane said thoughtfully. "I don't think I am."

"Anyway, we can't teach dueling, if one of us gets hit by a spell…" Harry broke off. He knew that rumors of the bounty hunter had spread across the Wizarding World, but wasn't sure how much Dumbledore actually knew about his situation.

"It'll hit the students," Draco filled in the blank. "Oh. That would probably be bad."

"Yeah, because no students have ever gotten hit by a stray curse in Defense Against the Dark Arts class," Bane scoffed.

"If that is truly your concern, Mr. Potter, I will erect a barrier to protect the students during your demonstrations, though I would caution you not to cast anything too…graphic."

"Won't matter," the three young men across from him replied in unison.

"How's that?"

Each opened their mouth to explain it and stopped at the same time. Harry's eyes met Bane's, an identical brow rising on each of their faces, followed by a feral grin.

"Bloody hell – don't even think about it!" Draco leapt out of his chair, moving to stand partially behind Dumbledore's chair. Before the Headmaster could inquire as to what was going on, both Harry's had pulled their wands and were now pointing them menacingly at each other.

"Mr. Potter – Potters! Stop this at once!" Dumbledore cried, alarmed. "What are you doing?"

"Finding out what would happen," Draco informed him darkly. The spells started flying, and Draco drug the older wizard back towards the door, casting a protective shield around them as the curses ricocheted off the walls of the room, scorching whatever they touched.

"How did you know they were going to do that, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked.

"Simple. When trying to figure out what Potter's going to do next, I think of the craziest, most dangerous, reckless, incredibly idiotic thing one could do in the situation, and that's the one that Potter will choose. Every time."

Finally, just when Draco thought he wasn't going to be able to hold the shield any longer, both dueling wizards stopped, saluted each other with their wands and tucked them back in their pockets, waving a hand that dissolved the remaining bouncing spells.

Draco moved hesitantly back to the table. "Ok, psychos, are we done now?"

"Yes." The smug satisfaction was clear on the twin faces.

Dumbledore sat down, clearing his throat. "Well, that was enlightening at the very least."

"So, your scheme to kill us wouldn't have worked after all," Bane surmised. "Might have killed the whole school, actually."

Dumbledore was no longer smiling, his face grave, but still kind. "I think you are right, Mr. . . . Black, is it?"

"Yes, sir." His tone was clearly mocking.

"Hey – here's a question." Draco leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table. "How'd you both get wands?"

"I don't know, I just had it with me when I woke up." Harry frowned, taking his wand back out from his pocket. "It's the same one I've always had."

"And you?" Dumbledore looked at Bane in curiosity.

"I don't know…I found it. It was in my pocket when I woke up in the Slytherin Common Room."

"And how did you arrive in the Common Room, Mr. Black?" Albus asked.

"Unconscious." Bane removed the wand from his pocket once more.

"Is it Voldemort's?" Harry asked, peering over his doppelganger's shoulder.

"No, I broke that one when…" Bane bit off what he was about to say, not quite sure why he felt the urge to protect Lucius' secret existence. "When I woke up, it was on the table. I broke it."

"May I see it?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"Sure." Bane shrugged, but his eyes remained fixed on the older wizard as he took the wand.

Pulling out his own wand, Dumbledore whispered a few incantations as he ran the tip of his wand up and down Bane's. "Well, it's very old. I haven't seen one like it outside of a museum."

Bane's eyes fixed on the Headmaster's wand, his heart pounding furiously for some reason. A voice that was not quite his own whispered through his head, _Mine._ He shook himself, but the image of Dumbledore's wand was burned in his mind. Where had he seen that wand before…why did it seem so important?

"Still in pretty good shape, though," Harry commented.

Bane cleared his throat. Dumbledore met his eyes, his fingers curling tightly around both wands for a second.

Harry tensed, looking steadily at Dumbledore. "You should give that back now."

"Of course, of course," the Headmaster said, smiling slightly as he passed Bane's wand back to him. "I just can't get over the feeling that I've seen it somewhere before…ah well, the memory of an old man."

Draco looked between the three wizards, feeling the unspoken tension in the room continue to grow. "And what position would you like me to take?"

"I would like for you to help Ms. Granger with Divination," Dumbledore replied gently, adding, "And I'm sure you could also assist in Defense against the Dark Arts every now and then."

"What?" Harry sat up straight, frowning. "I must have heard you wrong. Why in the name of Merlin's great grey beard would Hermione agree to teach _Divination_?"

"Well, she hasn't yet. But I suspect she's going to accept when I speak to her." The twinkle came back into Dumbledore's eyes. "Call it a hunch."

"So what do we do now?" Harry asked, his voice tired.

"Well, I think we should start by figuring out exactly how you two were split apart . . . and how we go about putting you back together."

"And who says we want that?" Bane asked.

"You don't?" Harry turned surprised eyes on his doppelganger.

"You do?" Bane parried.

Both Harry's sat there, silently staring at each other, brows furrowed in deep thought.

"One thing at a time, gentlemn," Dumbledore said softly. "Let us start by figuring out what happened, before we decide how and indeed, if the situation should be remedied."

"Fine," they replied in unison.

"And how do we go about that?" Draco asked.

"That's an excellent question, Mr. Malfoy, and leads me into a small request I have to ask of Mr. Black and Mr. Potter, as official faculty members." Dumbledore steepled his hands, resting his elbows on the table. "There is a set of twins, Piper and Prophet Vates, who are to attend Hogwarts this fall. I think it is imperative that we bring them to school early, and fully ensure their safe arrival."

"New heroes in training?" Draco asked. "Scarred foreheads, inflated egos and big important destinies all foretold in a prophecy types?"

Harry and Bane scowled angrily at him.

"Not quite, Mr. Malfoy. But you will see for yourself when they arrive." Dumbledore turned back to the two scowling wizards. "I would like for you to retrieve them this afternoon."

"And why aren't I going?" Draco asked, imperiously.

"Because the Vates children will like them better." Dumbledore smiled, taking in the two Harry's. "They look like twins."

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

TBC . . .


	11. One of Us Always Lies

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Chapter Title:** One of Us Always Lies

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues))

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: _**Mature, R, Adult – rated for language, explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised. Not intended for underage readers.**_

**A/N's: **My beta is missing! The last time I heard from her, she was buried under Real Life! I don't suppose there are any betas out there that would like to volunteer to take over until she comes back? You'd have to read the next six chapters to catch up to the one I need done, so let me know!! Thanks!

Oh, and if you're disappointed about the lack of full throttle H/D action, please be patient. It is coming – I'm just waiting to put a few things back together first. Grin.

Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

As Dumbledore left, Bane, Harry and Draco slowly sank back down into their chairs. The silence in the air stretched and thickened, the earlier fight echoing off the Slytherin walls around them.

Harry looked at Draco. Draco felt his breath catch, his heart jumping. Then Harry shook his head and stood.

"What, Potter?" Draco asked, feeling inexorably weary.

Harry blew out a breath, turned around and left. Draco watched him go, and when the door closed behind Harry, Draco let his head fall to rest against the back of the chair, heaving a great sigh, and resting his hand over his eyes. He could feel Bane watching him, but he had no idea what to say, what to think even. He felt like a puppy that had been viciously kicked for no reason, but he couldn't quite explain why.

"Forget about him, Draco."

Draco opened his eyes, watching Bane pour two glasses of brandy. Draco raised an elegant brow. "Pardon?"

"He doesn't want you. Forget about him." Bane plunked a heavy snifter in front of the blond Slytherin.

Draco stood abruptly, grasping the rim of the glass in his long fingers and crossing the room to stare moodily into the green fire burning in the marble fireplace, the flickering forked tongues of flame reaching out to him. "Like I care what he wants."

"You do." Bane swirled the amber liquid around the heavy crystal, leaning a hip against the table Draco had abandoned. "I know you, Draco."

"Do you?" Draco's jaw muscled worked as he barely refrained from gritting his teeth. He forced a scoff through his tightly drawn lips. "I don't even know me."

"It's not enough for you to be with me." Bane inhaled the aroma of the aged liquor, before sipping slowly, savoring it on his tongue the way he savored sharp words. "You know that we're not exactly the same person."

"What are you talking about?" Draco turned to face Bane.

"Together, we may equal Harry Potter, but we're exact opposites. What I have, he does not, so to speak." Bane took another sip of brandy. "And being with Harry's bad qualities is not what you wanted, what you're burning for." Bane gave a dark laugh. "I'm your doorway, not your destiny."

Draco swallowed hard, his eyes entrancingly fixated on Bane.

"It is the qualities that I possess that let you get close to the noble Harry Potter in the first place. His changes, his choices in the past few years that actually contradict the rest of what he stands for." Bane took a long swallowing, wincing with obvious pleasure as it scorched through him.

"So, what? You're his 'dark side'? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Let's just say, he got all the scruples." Bane smirked over the rim of his cup. "I'm the part of him capable of accepting you, of wanting you. I was your doorway in. But I'm not the part that you want to possess."

"Destiny," Draco said, comprehension dawning.

"You want the good side, the hero, the Boy Who Lived, not the Man That Survived." Bane tipped his glass back again. "And I don't have any of that. I promise you."

"That's not what I want." Draco took a long drink of his own brandy.

"Drink up, Draco. It makes the denial much easier." Bane started slowly walking forward, his eyes a hawk's in sight of prey.

"Why would I want that?" Draco rasped, licking the alcohol off his lips.

"Perhaps because you can't have it. Seems like a Malfoy reaction to such a situation," Bane mused, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"There is nothing a Malfoy can't have."

"Besides respect, you mean?" Bane smiled. "But no, I don't think that's it exactly. Do you remember when I told you, that I didn't like you."

"No." Draco licked his lips. "Oh, wait. Before the fight with the Dark Lord?"

"Yes."

Draco frowned, He wanted to argue that it had been Harry, not Bane, who had said those things to him, but no – that happened before the separation. His pulse was racing, and blood thundered in his ears, but he couldn't block out the sound of Bane's voice.

"I told you that I didn't like you, but that you liked me. I didn't like you because of the temptation you presented." Bane stopped in front of Draco, draining his glass and reaching to put it on the fireplace mantle behind Draco. Their eyes locked. "I was the one who was tempted. He was the one that hated me for it."

Draco tossed back the rest of his brandy as if it were a shot. "My father would be ashamed of me treating aged brandy that way," he commented wryly, avoiding Bane's eyes.

"You want Harry, because he is all that symbolizes the light. And you still think you can be redeemed." Bane's smile tightened viciously. "But you can't. And he doesn't want you because of that. He could never forgive you for being the little whiny coward that you were, but he might have been able to respect you once you grew a pair, and surpassed your father in the Death Eater ranks. Except you switched sides. Who cares if you were on the opposing team, at least you could have shown some courage, some conviction. But no, you turned traitor, switched sides in mid-fight. It doesn't take a hero to spot the dishonor in that."

Draco threw his glass into the fire, savoring the shivery screams of glass breaking and alcohol igniting.

"And on top of that, he knows the truth about you, Draco. You always seek power, always land on the winning side. I suppose you probably can't help those survivalist Malfoy genes." Bane braced both hands against the mantle behind Draco's head. "And he knows that you've been with me. Make no mistake, he understands me as well as I understand him. He knows what I am, and in his mind, you've taken sides. Even if you went to him now, you would only be confirming his opinion of you as a traitor."

"It's not like I chose to wake up in your camp, you know!" Draco spat, his indifference slipping of his face like a mask tossed aside at a ball for a midnight kiss. "I was dragged here by Death Eaters. Sure that's happened to the all powerful Potter a time or two? You'd think it would buy me a little sympathy."

"Malfoys always want to buy emotions," Bane commented, licking his lips slowly as he regarded his proximity to Draco. "But you can't buy Harry. He doesn't care. He never wanted you. He was just punishing himself with you, for…well, the parts of him that are me."

Draco's breathing was turning shallow, Bane's words beating into his chest with the steady beat of a battering ram. "That's not true."

"You might have been dragged here by Death Eaters, but only because you landed beside me, not him. Even fate knows your nature, knows where you belong."

"And you think I belong with you?" Draco asked scornfully.

"Your redemption isn't coming Draco," Bane whispered in his ear. "He can't redeem you."

Draco closed his eyes, leaning back as if in pain. Bane brushed his lips over Draco's cheekbones, ghosting over his mouth. He felt the pull he had on Draco, the magnetic attraction like a well of gravity between.

"That's why he left just now. Why he took one look at you, turned around and walked out the door." Bane slid his fingers into the hair at the base of Draco's neck, tugging sharply to bring his head back. Bane's gaze imprisoned Draco's eyes as he said, "Harry disgraced himself with you."

"Maybe. But I did have him," Draco drawled.

"So you did," Bane replied, intrigued.

Draco smirked, "Had _you_."

Bane raised a brow. Draco pushed away from the fireplace, splaying his hands on top of Bane's shoulders and shoving him roughly to the floor. Bane sprawled back, looking up at with a lazily sinister face. Draco pulled his shirt out of his pants and tossed it away. "And I'll have you again. Right now."

Bane grinned his satisfaction and asked with mock innocence, "Why, what are you doing, Draco?"

"Harry disgraced himself with me?" Draco covered Bane's body with his own and fused their lips together in a fiery kiss, exploring, punishing, seducing Bane's mouth until he responded with equal fervor. "I'm returning the favor."

"How noble of you." Bane stretched his hands languidly above his head, rolling his body sinfully against Draco's.

"Who knew you were such a mind-fuck, Potter?" Draco muttered, lowering himself fully on top of the other man.

"Bane smiled. "Black."

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Hermione stood before the massive fireplace in the Ravenclaw Common Room. She trailed her fingers across the mantelpiece, her thoughts so focused on the disturbing conversation with Dumbledore earlier that morning that she didn't hear Severus enter and approach her.

"Knut for your thoughts."

"They're worth more than that," she whispered, not turning to face him.

He reached forward to place his hands on her shoulders when her fingers caught on something. _Crack!_ A large groan sounded through the room and the fireplace pulled away from the wall, revealing a gaping black abyss.

"Bloody hell." Severus stared over Hermione's shoulders, instinctively wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her protectively against his chest. "What did you do?"

"Opened a doorway." Her voice sounded dreamy and distant.

"How did you know that was there?"

"I dreamt it."

Severus turned her around, grasping her chin firmly and tilting her face up to look into her eyes. A strange light ringed the cinnamon orbs of her eyes. "Hermione? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She twisted away from him and tried to walk through the passageway she had opened. She was stopped by an ethereal blue barrier that flickered and then disappeared as she stepped back. "I can't go through."

Severus frowned, his stomach filling with icy dread. There was something off about Hermione, and the abyss seemed to be emanating a cold chill. He wanted the doorway closed, but couldn't explain exactly why. The same way he had known when a wizard had the Dark Mark without seeing it, he knew there was something wrong with this passageway, that it was not meant to be opened.

"I should have known that. What kind of Divination teacher am I going to be, if I don't start realizing these things before they happen?" Hermione seemed to be talking to herself.

"You agreed to teach Divination? Why?" He hoped engaging her in conversation could snap her out of the strange reverie she seemed to be in.

Her eyes snapped to him as if surprised that he was there. She stared at him wordlessly, her lips curving mysteriously.

"An enigmatic smile is not a substitute for a response."

"Dumbledore asked me to." She kept glancing back at the passageway.

"Why would he do that? Because of your dream?" Severus frowned. She had been strange since she her dream, drifting in and out of strange reveries. "Can't you close that thing?"

"Don't want to close it. Not yet." She frowned. Somehow she knew that the passage was supposed to lead somewhere. It had led somewhere.

"Hermione!" The sharpness of his voice recalled the strictest Potions Master that Hogwarts had ever had and brought Hermione back to attention. "Why did Dumbledore ask you of all people to teach Divination?"

Hermione's eyes were tinged with sorrow as she said, "I cannot tell you. But you'll know soon enough."

"You already sound like a Divination teacher," he scoffed. A chill ran down his spine, as if the cold from the passageway was creeping along his back, trying to pull him in.

"You have to trust me on this one." Her eyes were gathering that strange, wild light again. A warm wind blew through the passageway, ruffling her hair.

The room filled with a strange energy, and Severus shook himself, trying to break its hold on him. He struggled to focus on their conversation. "I don't like you keeping secrets from me."

"We all have secrets, Severus. You of all people should know that by now." Her voice had changes somehow, and Severus struggled to focus on it, fighting the growing dread still seizing him.

He felt desperate, as if there was something terribly important happening. The room seemed to be tinged with crimson. Severus was encompassed in emotion. A panicked urgency gripped him. "Secrets?" What were they talking about?

Hermione stepped forward, putting her arms around his neck and pressing her body firmly against his. Her voice turned hungry and sad. "Let's stop talking about this and make the most of what time we have."

"What time we have?" He echoed. He couldn't stop his hands from roaming over body, caressing her curves and pulling her inexorably closer.

Hermione pulled Severus down into a deeply longing kiss. Severus leaned down and scooped her up into his arms. Her need tugged him down into a whirlpool of fierce desire, like a siren calling to a lonely sailor. She whispered hotly into his ear, "Please. Now." He had never wanted to drown so badly.

Severus carried her over to the couch, overpowered by the depth of her emotion, undone by the desperate feel of her mouth on his. She made a gesture over his shoulder and he heard the fireplace crackle and snap back into place. He barely registered the sound as she began to claw at their clothing, ripping her shirt open and reaching for his trouser even as he pushed her skirt up around her waist. He tore her panties from her body, listening to the fabric rip with a sharp jolt of excitement before hurriedly tossing them aside.

Hermione spread her legs, her nerves on fire. He impatiently brushed her hands aside, pulling his cock out and thrusting deeply into her before she could even gasp. Back arching, teeth scraping, fingernails digging into the flesh of his hips, she writhed beneath him, panting. He moaned as he pounded into her, spurred on by her pleas for more. "I need you," she whispered. "I need you."

"One last time, luv." Severus didn't know where the words came from, or what they meant. He couldn't care about anything but the sweet thrill of their naked flesh. He had never been so rough with her before, but the intensity was still building, driving him mad.

Their eyes locked and his heart throbbed. He could feel little droplets of blood sliding down his back under her fingernails, knew the bruising force with which he thrust into her, but could not have stopped to save his life. Not to save hers.

This need in her eyes frightened him, called to darker parts of his soul than she usually touched. He was ashamed, enthralled, alive. He felt her come once, then again and again, and even when his body released, he knew he wasn't done with her tonight. Not nearly. Not yet. The look on her face as they held each other, panting rhythmically told him she would have accepted nothing less. And he never thought to question why.

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Harry squinted at the morning sunshine. Bane stood next to him, looking just as uncomfortable standing on the stoop of the small, secluded cottage in the English countryside. They each reached forward at the same time to knock firmly on the solid oak door, not even bothering to spare each other a glance.

The door opened, revealing a pale young woman with white hair in a thick braid down her back. "Finally. They'll be so glad you've arrived."

Harry blinked. "Apparently, we were expected."

Bane shouldered past Harry to follow the woman as she turned and walked back into the house. Gritting his teeth, Harry followed as well, closing the door with a firm click behind him. They entered a large room, with an airy ceiling. The back wall of the room was made of glass windows, overlooking the forest surrounding the cottage. The white carpet was thick, and Harry's shoes sank in with every step. Plush furniture was strewn about the room, accompanied by stacks of books on small tables. Two children sat on the couch, both as pale and white haired as the woman who had opened the door. The boy was sketching in a book on his lap, while his twin sister had her knees pulled up to her chest, staring up at the ceiling. Harry and Bane stared at the woman, expecting some kind of introduction.

"The pancakes are burning, mother," the girl said sweetly, sweeping her long hair over one shoulder. The woman smiled at her daughter and left the room.

Harry was about to clear his throat, when the boy spoke. "We're not stupid, you know. Tell the Headmaster we know the difference between copies of the same person and twins."

"How'd you know we were both Harry Potter?" They asked in unison.

"We didn't. You're both Black." The sister sighed.

"Excuse me."

"You're excused," the boy replied, setting aside his sketching. "I am Prophet, and this is Piper."

"Harr—"

"We know who you are." The boy cut him off. "Please sit down."

Harry set himself in a chair to the left of the couch, where he had a good vantage point on the exits to the room. Bane stood opposite of him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So, what's so special about the two of you?" Bane asked.

Harry looked at him sharply, but remained silent.

"One of us always tells the truth, and one of us always lies," said Piper, impishly.

"Really?" Harry asked.

"No, not really." She smiled, sliding off the couch. Turning around, she lay back, resting her legs on the couch cushions and staring at them upside down. "But he's the liar."

Bane smirked, bemused. "They sort of remind me of us, Potter."

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Prophet called out, "The syrup, Mother!" The footsteps retreated. Prophet regarded the two men on opposing sides of the room in turn. "You'll stay for breakfast."

Harry nodded. Why was Dumbledore so interested in these two? Piper looked at him knowingly, still upside down. She was a peculiar young girl. She was dressed in a soft, lacy, white sundress, with a pair of tweed shorts underneath, which was a good thing, as the full skirt of the dress was now bunched about her waist because of her upside down position. Her white hair was strewn about her impish, angular face. Her overly full lips were spread in a mocking smile. He found himself wondering how old she was.

"I am seventeen, Mr. Potter," Piper said impishly, rolling onto her stomach and resting her chin in her hands. She kicked her feet behind her and flipped her hair back over her shoulders again.

Bane appraised her with new eyes and a raised brow.

Harry's face flushed a little. He tried to remember the last time he had blushed. He was not quite embarrassed by his instant attraction to the underage girl or her notice of the fact, but he was not used to being read so easily. He looked away from her quickly.

Piper Vates was as odd mix, part childlike actions and expression and part overtly sensual features and adult eyes that saw too much. The effect was both unsettling and oddly alluring. Harry had long ago stopped analyzing his inclinations, accepting his darker needs, intentions and ambitions as long as he remained in control of his indulgence in them. The desire to surrender to his temptations flirted with his ruthless determination to accomplish certain goals that he had set for himself. Goals that had always kept his behavior in line. But those goals were gone now and Harry was more than lost without them. Sacrificing all wants to his ambition had become his code, and how could he make decisions when the code no longer mattered? When he had no ambition left?

Prophet scowled at his sister. "Stop it. I know what you're doing."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, bro," Piper said, smiling. She cast an appreciative look at Bane, who smirked back at her. Prophet and Harry glared at him.

Their mother, Rowena, came back in to call them to breakfast in the dining room. In a somewhat awkward silence, they filed down the hall and took seats around a large, perfectly set oak table. Prophet and Piper sat on one side, Harry and Bane on the other, and Rowena and her husband, Samuel at either end. Harry and Bane found black coffee already in steaming cups at their respective seats. As they began to eat, Harry asked if any of them had any questions about the twins attendance at Hogwarts.

"No, we're very comfortable with the arrangement," Rowena smiled softly, as if indulging a very silly question. She made a motion to her house elf, who began to dole out pancakes off of a silver serving tray. "Our only regret is that they will only be able to attend for a year, as the school has been closed this past many years."

"My wife and I both went to Hogwarts." Samuel glanced over at Bane. "We were Ravenclaws, Mr. Black."

Bane started. It was a little unnerving visiting the family of the strongest Seers known to wizarding kind.

Piper sat in her chair backwards, her legs folded under her and chin propped on the back of the chair as she peered at their guests. Her brother was sprawled back in his own chair, with one leg hooked over an arm of the chair, and his jaw propped on his chin thoughtfully. Their eyes were a strange, charcoal grey, and with their blond hair, both Harry and Bane were reminded of Draco Malfoy and shifted uncomfortably.

"Have you never had formal schooling before then?" Bane asked.

"We had excellent tutors," Piper replied. "Don't worry, we'll have no problems keeping up."

After they finished eating, the twins brought their trunks downstairs. Each trunk was black, locked and had a large umbrella lashed to the top of it. They quickly bid goodbye to their parents, leaving them to finish their coffee around the dining table. They gathered in front of the fireplace. Harry reached for the jar with the floo powder.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. We will have to Apparate, and while my brother and I are more than capable of Apparating, we don't have our license yet." Piper kept a hand on the handle of her trunk.

"What do you mean, we're not going to be able to floo?" Harry tossed the floo powder in the fire, but nothing happened. "What the bloody hell…?"

"There is some concern that Lucius Malfoy might be back from the dead, and all floo networks have been closed temporarily," Prophet answered.

"How did you know that?" Harry asked, exasperated.

Piper laughed, reaching over to pick something up from the nearby side table. "It was in the Daily Prophet. It came this morning, just before you did."

"Oh. Right." Harry looked chagrined.

"Who's going to take me?" Piper asked, coyly.

Bane grinned and Harry glared at him, each acknowledging somewhere inside the double meaning to her words.

Piper smiled sweetly. "Mr. Bane, will you please Apparate with me? And Prophet, you can go with Mr. Potter."

"Fine." Prophet's eyes held a warning for his sister, but she just winked back at him.

Bane smiled and hooked an arm around Piper's waist, pulling her back against his chest. He met Harry's eyes over his head, enjoying the scowl on his doppelganger's face. Bane picked up her trunk, holding it in both hands in front of Piper, effectively locking her into his embrace. "Hold on tight now, luv."

Piper turned, wrapping her arms around his waist, and leaning her head against his shoulder. She looked up at him, eyes wide. "I'm ready."

"I'm sure you are." Bane smirked and with a pop the two vanished.

"Does your sister really always lie?" Harry asked, looking at Prophet's un-amused face.

"It's not that she's a liar," Prophet said, shrewdly. "Piper is possessed of a peculiarly persuasive personality."

"Say that five times fast." Harry raised an eyebrow.

"She tells you what you need to hear. The facts, although intriguing, are irrelevant." Prophet shrugged.

"And what about you?"

"I have my own perspective of the truth."

"I see." Harry snorted. "You ready to go, then?"

Prophet looked at Harry solemnly. "I trust that such close proximity is not a necessity."

Harry's lips twitched. He grasped the young man's arm at the elbow. "I'm pretty sure this will do."

Prophet grasped his trunk handle. "Let's hurry. I know exactly what she's going to do if we take too long."

Harry nodded and with a loud pop, they Apparated as well. They arrived on the road to Howarts, just outside the small town of Hogsmeade. The twins promptly pulled their umbrellas from the tops of their trunks and opened them.

"I really don't think you'll need those," Bane said, bemused. "It's really not that sunny."

Piper winked at him. "You never know."

As they started forward, a loud crack of thunder pealed across the sky, and the clouds opened up with a downpour. Harry and Bane stared at each other, completely drenched in just a few seconds, exchanging looks of annoyance.

"Coming?" Piper called, as she skipped up the path, trunk levitating along behind her and brother at her side.

Harry cursed and followed, Bane trailing behind him, both of them scowling at the twins walking calmly ahead of them, perfectly dry and clearly in private conversation.

This was going to be interesting.

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

TBC…

"


	12. You Have My Sword

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Chapter Title:** You Have My Sword.

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues))

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: _**Mature, R, Adult – rated for language, explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised. Not intended for underage readers.**_

**A/N's: **There's a lot of subtle clues in this chapter, for those who have mastered the subtle art of reading foreshadowing. So when you get to the end, if you have any bright guesses, I'd love to hear them!

Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

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Draco walked into the silent library, looking for a little space to put his head together correctly. Every time he tried to figure out what was going on inside his own head, he was invaded by the undeniably presence of the great Harry Potter. Or at least his copy.

A sound caught his attention, and he walked towards a row of small rooms meant for study groups to gather in. He heard the rasp of clothing on the grounds, and a soft sigh. A slightly embarrassed grin on his lips, he angled his head to peer around the door. In the mirror stood a beautiful young woman with white hair, and the darkest grey eyes he had ever seen.

Her face was slightly angular and impish, and her skin was bone-white pale. She had slender, young curves and was currently sliding them into a student skirt. As she pulled her robe over the just buttoned shirt, she met his eyes in the mirror she face.

"See anything you like?" She asked teasingly.

"You knew I was here?" He stepped through the doorway.

She simply smiled at him, raising an eyebrow. "I'm Piper Vates."

Draco started. This was one of the twins Harry had been sent to retrieve? So he was back in the castle then. Draco frowned, feeling as though he should have sensed that. "Draco Malfoy."

"We only just arrived. Since we haven't been assigned rooms yet, they said I could change here."

Draco raised his brow. "But they didn't tell you to shut the door? How remiss of them."

"Arrogance and wit – always a stunning combination." Piper pulled her hair out of the back of the robe and flipped it over her shoulder. "One very inherent to Malfoys."

"You know many other Malfoy's?" Draco asked.

"Certainly." Piper bestowed upon him an enchanting smile. "Do not fear, my coloring is not a trace of family resemblance, Mr. Malfoy." Piper smiled slyly. "The white hair and dark grey eyes came with the gift bestowed upon my ancestor to mark her as The Seer for all time."

"The Seer?"

"The Chosen One. Some say the first one was Cassandra of Troy. But maybe that's just a myth." Piper's eyes burned with intensity. "The member of our family with the True Gift, the strongest seer in the world. The mark was so strong, it invades the inheritance of my entire family."

Draco stared at her, his heart racing a little as she reached a pale hand to brush a length of his blond hair away from his eyes. "And who is the Seer now?"

"My brother and I share the True Gift. A rarity that has never occurred before. The Vates are not given to having twins."

Draco grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away, she never flinched. "That must make you and your brother very special, Piper."

She giggled. "You have no idea. But we're all special, Draco."

He held onto her arm tightly as he asked, "How do you know all of this?"

"All Vates children are strictly taught our full lineage. The rest of it is the gift of my family's inheritance, the sight." Piper pulled her wrist free gently, and in a twirl of her school robes, she turned towards the door, calling over her shoulder, "Very interesting, all of this lineage, inheritance and all of that, isn't it, Draco?"

"I hardly think it's appropriate for a student to address a professor by his first name," he commented, watching her pause at the door.

"I'm hardly the appropriate sort." She smiled coquettishly. "And neither are you, Draco. Say hello to your father for me."

And she was gone before he could ask how she knew his father … or knew he was alive.

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Harry stepped out onto the empty Quidditch Field. He took a deep, soul-cleansing breath and pulled his sword from it's sheath, savoring the clear ring of the steel as it whistled through the air, free again at last. He centered himself, swinging the sword gracefully up and around his head before bringing it down in a daring arc forwards. He stepped forward and back, curving the blade through the air around him as if engaging in some kind of ceremonial killing dance. His blood sang in harmonic tone with the steel, and for the first time in weeks, he felt at peace. (Oh, great line!)

Harry was fairly certain that he had left all of his less than desirable traits in his copy. Bane, as it were, surely seemed to contain the parts of Harry that Harry had never wished to possess. Manipulation. Arrogance. Cruelty. Vengeance. Ambition. The ability to use people for his own ends. His more Machiavellian tendencies. But this – this talent for the lethal use of weaponry, the balance in his step, the sharpness in his senses, the most Warrior-like of his tendencies, they seemed to have been dealt to each of them. Harry found that calming somehow. His personality, his innate goodness or evilness, may be split in two, but his nature – that was more solid, built into his very bones, his genetic code, the essence within his body and could not be split.

As much as Harry had wanted to deny it when he was younger, he had been born to fight, born to win these battles, to take down opponents. He had wanted to be good, noble, and true. But how much of that was real? And how much had he simply tried to be what Dumbledore had wanted him to be? What he had been told he had to be? Harry knew deep down he had been born a fighter, did it really matter to him what side of the fight he was on? Of course he had been against Voldemort. The dark wizard had ruined his life, stripped him of every simple pleasure and happiness that Harry had ever dared to reach for. He killed his family, killed his childhood, tried to kill him. Harry hated Voldemort personally – not on principal. What if Harry would have been allowed to choose a side, if he himself had not been at the center of the battle?

Harry shook himself and refocused on his swords and footsteps, when he heard an echo. He turned to face Bane.

"You have my sword," Bane said evenly.

"I have _my _sword." Harry bared his teeth.

Bane smiled, and Harry could read the look in his eyes. Suddenly, he wanted Bane to have a sword, too. A rushing sound flooded his ears, and he felt magic draining from him, rushing towards Bane, who stretched out a hand. An exact copy of Harry's sword appeared in Bane's outstretched fingers, and the rushing in Harry's ears stopped. He gasped in air. Was this what it felt like, when he drew magic from others? Was this what the aurors had felt when their intentions aligned with his and he pulled their magic out of them for his own ends?

Bane tilted his head slightly in invitation and the battle was on. Their swords clashed, ringing out across the Pitch with loud shrieks. Harry's world narrowed to one thing – beating his opponent with everything he had, every fiber of his being, as if his very survival depended upon it. Every thrust he delivered was expertly parried, every stroke of his sword met with equal force. Harry grinned, joy infusing his very being. How he had missed this – the clarifying jolt of adrenaline, the mind clearing beauty of a fight.

He stepped back, raising his blade, and this time as he attacked, he brought that clarity into sharp focus. He knew Bane's weaknesses, they were his own. There, where he lowered his arm after a strike, and here, where he flinched from attacks that came from the hole in his peripheral vision. Their swords locked, bearing down towards the ground, and Harry dropped to one knee, bringing his sword under and around Bane's to land at his neck. Harry felt a soft sting in his own neck, and was not surprised to see that Bane had mirrored his actions, and was now kneeling with his blade against Harry's throat.

Harry nodded with grudging respect and the sheer joy of battle, finding his expression reflected back at him. "Maybe you're more like me than I thought."

Bane nodded, breathing deeply. He felt cleansed by the fight, cleared out of all the restless ruminating he had been doing about his situation. He almost smiled before turning around and walking away. Harry raised an eyebrow, not sure why his counterpart was leaving, but rather content to be left alone for a little bit longer. Then he remembered – the meeting. Dumbledore wished to reveal that there were two Harry's to the rest of the Hogwart's staff. Harry angled his eyes at the sun. It must be close to the time the Headmaster had chosen to have the meeting. Harry headed towards the locker room showers, hoping they were still functional.

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Bane left the Quidditch Pitch without looking back. He was enjoying the sense of peace the swordplay had granted him, and didn't want to lose it in the wake of time spent with his irritating doppelganger. He still held the handle of his sword, squeezing it reassuringly as he walked. How long did conjured swords last?

He entered the castle and headed for the staircase that would lead him down to the Slytherin dorms. Ahead of him was a dark haired man he didn't recognize, who appeared to be contemplating the moving staircases.

"Are you lost?" Bane asked, smirking a little. The man looked up, and Bane gasped.

The man had longish dark hair and almost a full month's beard. He favored his left leg, as if he had injured the right one long ago. His face was worn with lines, his eyes hard and devoid of human emotion. He regarded Bane calmly, but underneath the surface, Bane could tell that the man was taking his full measure, trying to judge strengths and weaknesses, to understand a fellow warrior. But despite all of that, Bane knew the man's face as well as he knew his own.

"Harry," the man said, nodding his head in greeting.

"Neville." Bane stepped back, looking him over. Bane extended his arm. "Good to see you."

Neville Longbottom only hesitated a few seconds before clasping Bane's hand and shaking it firmly. "Good to be seen." His words were somewhat less than convincing. His eyes lit on the weapon in Bane's hand. "Nice sword."

"Thanks," Bane replied evenly. "Recognize it?"

"The sword of Gryffindor," Neville answered, the slightest hint of reverence in the hitch in his breath. He stared at the blade as if expecting it to do something. He reached out a hand, almost unthinkingly. "May I?"

Bane nodded after a moment, and passed the sword over.

Neville held it for a moment, holding the blade up to catch a gleam of light pouring through a nearby window. He switched grips and twirled it through the air, then paused again, before handing it back to Bane with an air of disappointment. He said again, "Nice sword."

"What are you doing here, old boy?" Bane gripped the sword, letting the tip rest against the ground and regarded Neville with curiosity. "I haven't seen you since…"

"I know," Neville cut him off. "I was working for the Order."

"I knew that, but what –"

"Nothing special," Neville cut him off again.

Bane nodded. He rarely thought about the War. He faced it often enough when he was asleep. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Dumbledore," Neville stopped and cleared his throat. His voice had acquired a gravely quality somewhere during the war, something that usually happens when one's windpipe was crumpled, Bane thought. "He asked me to teach Herbology."

"I see."

"And you, Harry?" Neville's voice was casual, but somewhere in there was a note of mistrust, a wariness. "What brings you here?"

"I'm teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts." Well, it was certainly true. He was also here because he had been split in two after the final battle with the Dark Lord, but Neville would find out about this soon enough.

Neville nodded. "Do you have any idea what this special staff meeting is about? I came in early for it."

Bane noted that Neville did not say where he had come in from, or how long it had taken. A man of few words gives away few secrets. It was a lesson that the Bounty Hunter knew well. "I'm not sure, mate."

Neville shrugged, though his eyes narrowed in the nature of a hawk's sighting a mouse. "Really? Strange, I thought _you'd _know."

"Not a clue. See you there." Bane moved past him to slip down the stairway to Slytherin, feeling Neville's eyes on his back the whole way down.

Despite his piercing stare, all the former Gryffindor said was, "See you there, _Harry_."

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Harry stepped into the Great Hall, walking directly to where Dumbledore stood at the Head Table, where he usually gave his start of the year speeches. Bane was concealed in the little side room that Harry had been in after his name was drawn from the Goblet of Fire. Dumbledore had felt it would be best to reveal the truth and then show the staff Harry's double.

Draco, Hermione, Snape, and Ginny stood at the Head Table as well, and while they were all silent, Harry could feel the questions in their eyes as their combined gaze raked his face. Ginny looked at him with concern, mouthing, "Alright there, Harry?"

He nodded almost imperceptibly. Now that his attention had been drawn to the little redhead, he couldn't look away. He hadn't seen Ginny since he had rescued her from Crabbe and Goyle right before he went after Malfoy. As he met her eyes, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but she was different somehow.

Movement behind him caught his attention, and to his bemusement, he spotted the Vates twins. They were dressed in plain uniforms and robes, without house affiliation, since they had yet to be sorted. And they were tugging a bucket of blue goo with them. Occasionally they stopped to point their wands at the bucket and then at various spots on the floor, some of which lined one whole corner of the Great Hall. Wherever they pointed their wands, a large blue circle would appear, just wide enough to stand comfortably in. Sometimes they would stop and argue about the placement of one of the circles, but they worked very rapidly and in tandem, even through the disagreements. Once they were finished, a house elf appeared and took the bucket. They brushed off their robes and took seats on the floor, sitting cross legged and looking up at the Head Table as if they were watching a Muggle movie.

The rest of the Hogwarts staff was gathered at various tables, and watching with rapt attention. Harry noted with sadness the absence of Hagrid's hulking form, McGonagall's tall silhouette, Professor Sprout's pudgy smile, Madam Pomfrey's brusque movements.

"What is Ginny doing here?" Harry whispered to Hermione, moving to stand next to her.

"She's the new medi-witch," Hermione answered, waving to Ginny when she looked up at the mention of her name.

Harry also waved at her, shaking off the uneasy feeling the young girl was giving him. He sighed and Hermione shot him a questioning look. He shrugged, his hair falling aside to reveal his smooth, tan forehead. "It's just, all the professors aren't here anymore."

Even Filch was gone, dead of a heart attack during the siege of Hogwart's castle. Harry briefly wondered if Mrs. Norris had survived, but was distracted from the thought as another man entered the room, a man Harry recognized easily. The man nodded to him, casually, and Harry returned the gesture, oddly miffed at the cold greeting. But as Hermione often said, everyone had secrets now, and Harry was sure that included the man now standing uncomfortably at the periphery of the group.

Neville Longbottom had changed. Harry regarded him quietly, instinctively measuring up what kind of opponent his old classmate would be. He was not surprised to find Neville different than the last time they had stood in the same room. No one, save maybe Dumbledore, knew where Neville had been during the War, what he had been doing. He had worked for the Order in complete secrecy.

Neville was still. He used an economy of motions with a ruthless efficiency that Harry easily understood. Neville had become a warrior. He stood against the wall in a corner of the room, his arms folded loosely over his chest. His brooding dark eyes constantly, but surreptitiously, surveyed the room, monitoring his surroundings. He had a slight limp on his left side, though one could barely notice when he walked – an old injury, probably from the start of the War.

Neville was quiet. He spoke to no one unless spoken to. Gone was the stammering, blushing, unsure young man with a severe memory problem. Neville's eyes were clear, bright and haunted. His words were clipped, short and assured. He said nothing without thinking or without meaning. His most common expression was a cold sneer, lines of disgust instead of laughter crinkled at his eyes. Harry had yet to see him smile, and he wasn't sure that Neville was still capable of such a benign expression.

But he was here, at Hogwarts. And was teaching Herbology, Hermione whispered to him. Quite a change from old Prof. Sprout, thought Harry. Looking around the Great Hall again, a lot would be different for the new crop of wizards and witches to attend Hogwarts. Their experiences would be vastly different from Harry's own. Well except for their Potions lessons. Harry's eyes lit on the cantankerous Potions Master. Despite Hermione's arguments, Severus Snape had not changed at all, as far as Harry was concerned.

Hermione offered him a small smile. Her face seemed tired to Harry and he wondered what was on her mind. There was a small bruise on the base of her neck, which in another second he recognized as a thumbprint. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she merely smirked back at him with a glance at Snape, and a gesture he could probably interpret as she wanted to talk to him after this meeting. He frowned, feeling reluctant, but knowing that after what was about to be revealed in this meeting, he would have no chance of skipping the conversation. He supposed it had been awhile since they had really sat and talked. Not since that first day after the final battle, really. But Harry was not used to having people to check in with. He supposed he would have to force himself back into the habit. He was not sure that it would be possible. He had been forever altered from the young boy who had first entered the hallowed halls of this magical institution. But who was he now?

His eyes lit on the door that concealed Bane, as Dumbledore began to talk. Wisely, the old man was starting out with the death of the Dark Lord, a cause for great celebration. Good tactics, win the crowd over with Harry's heroics, hold him up as a symbol of the light again. Harry fought his resentment. The Wizarding World had wanted nothing to do with the Bounty Hunter, but they had missed 'Harry-the-Hero-of-Hogwarts', and were ready to welcome him back. Harry wondered idly how far the fall from this pedestal would be when all was revealed. He stepped forward and bowed without a trace of mocking as the applause rose up, holding his hands to quiet them down after a moment, and turning his eyes expectantly on Dumbledore. If the older Wizard wanted to trot him out like this, that was fine, but Harry was certainly not going to be part of it.

"Unfortunately, our hero was … injured in the final battle, with some unexpected results." Dumbledore paused, his manner grave, but the twinkle in his eyes reassuring the room. Harry felt the eyes of the room fix on him, searching for the flaw in their savior. Harry couldn't hide the twinges of the smirk at his lips. If only they knew how shattered, how cracked their precious Golden Boy had become. Literally split in half by the decisions he had made to save them. Well, they were about to find out. "But do not fear. We have enlisted help, and are assured that the damage can be repaired."

Harry rolled his eyes. What was he – some defective broom to be fixed and pushed back into play?

The door swung open, and Bane entered the Great Hall, coming forward to stand next to Harry. A gasp crashed through the room, like a wave against the shore.

Hermione had gone white, and was staring at him with her hand over her mouth. Both Draco's and Snape's faces were impassive as ever, but Ginny was now regarding the two Harry Potter's with naked interest. Harry's eyes sought out Neville.

Neville stared at him, his eyes inscrutable, but lines of knowing satisfaction crinkled at his eyes. Harry inclined his head towards Neville, noting Bane's mirroring movements. Ah, thought Harry, then Neville had already run into his copy today.

"But professor," Hermione turned to look at the Headmaster. "What does this mean? Can we, I mean, how do we –"

"Put Humpty-Dumpty back together again?" Piper's musical laughter twinkled through the room like fireflies on a summer night. "Easy as baking black-bird pie."

"That doesn't seem very easy to me," Draco commented.

"Well neither is rejoining a person who's split in half, is it?" Prophet asked, amused.

Piper nodded.

"Well, how long will it take?" Ginny spoke up, feeling a little upset that she hadn't been told about this before. Was she not the best medi-witch in Scotland? Didn't she deserve to be consulted with such a magical malady?

"Have patience, little Miss Muffet. You should be used to the company of spiders by now." Piper smirked at her, holding a finger to her lips. "Hush now, and let the grown-ups talk."

Ginny seethed with anger at being taken so lightly. "I'm older than you are, you little hair-flipping twerp-"

"Miss Weasley, please," Dumbledore admonished. She reluctantly closed her mouth and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes darkening. "Piper, do you have any insight about Mr. Potter's condition?"

"Are these what the blue circles are for?" Harry asked Hermione.

"I have no idea." She shook her head.

"And you're teaching Divination?" Harry asked with a muffled laugh. He was still half-convinced that her teaching assignment was some kind of trick or joke. He enjoyed the warm feeling of the laugh for a second, before the temperature in the room dropped unexpectedly.

Piper had turned to face her brother, holding both of her hands out before her. Prophet placed his hands against his sister's, interlocking their fingers. They stared straight into each other's eyes as a warm wind emanated from their clasped hands and blew through their white hair. The air around them formed a blue bubble and shimmered once with sound of breaking glass before vanishing.

"A brave knight on a dark night, seeks his completion in the shadows. Death holds the answer," Prophet spoke, his voice even and hypnotizing. "Death takes us all whole."

"Hallowed be thy name, brave warrior. He who has faced Death and cloaked himself from the Reaper's icy hold," Piper continued. "The hallows, lit and reflected by heart's desire will put together what man has ripped asunder."

Prophet looked up, meeting Dumbledore's eyes and gave a small nod to indicate that this was all they had to say.

"So, it's like a pre-requisite that all Divination statements be cryptic and creepy, right? At least if they're about you, Potter," Draco scoffed, drawing close behind Harry.

"Apparently," Harry and Bane replied together, neither bothering to look at the blond.

Dumbledore looked somewhat stunned, gazing at the twins with open interest. He whispered softly, "The Hallows."

"We must all walk dark paths to the light, Albus," Prophet said, his voice still deeper and bigger than his frame. "Even you."

Dumbledore nodded tightly, indicating with a gesture that he would like to speak with Harry and Bane. He dismissed the rest of the staff, who hesitantly filed out the door. Hermione, Draco, Ginny, Snape and the twins remained behind with Harry and Bane.

"H-harry?" Hermione looked as if she was reeling from shock. "When did this happen?"

"Right after the battle," Bane supplied quickly. "During the lightning strike."

"Then all this time, you knew – you knew, and you didn't tell me?" Hermione stared at the two of them reproachfully. "Have you both been here, in the castle since then?"

"Yes," Harry replied shortly.

"But how – " Hermione bit her lip to stop the flow of her questions. Finally, she settled on, "Is there anyway – anything different – to tell you apart?"

"There are ways. You can call me 'Bane Black' for now. If that helps at all." Bane smiled at her fondly.

"How did you get that name?" The name was ricocheting through her brain like an errant bullet, threatening to bring her dreams back.

"Let them go – they'll come to you when they're ready," Prophet said, looking at Hermione, who was speechless. He stood up, coming close enough to brush his fingertips down her arm, a strange little smile on his face, before he turned again and offered his sister a hand up. They began to re-hash the locations of the blue circles, as Hermione rubbed her arm absently.

"Just felt right, I guess," Bane replied, his tone guarded as he tried to catch her eye.

"Have we met before? I mean, have we spoken when I thought that you were, you know, you?" Hermione asked. Bane stared at her for a long moment and Harry turned curious eyes to his counterpart.

"Yes, the day you found me by the mirror. That was me," said Bane when the silence seemed to stretch on too long. Apparently, Harry's affection for Hermione had been split between the two of them, along with their fighting prowess. His friendship with her also transcended personality.

Harry looked at her somewhat regretfully. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't know that you had spoken to him."

"Can we talk, Harry?" She glanced at Bane, not knowing what to do with him.

"Yes." Harry's eyes dismissed his doppelganger as he took Hermione's elbow and steered her towards the end of the Gryffindor table.

Ginny approached Bane, stepping in close and noting the way he mirrored her interested posture. She looked deep in his eyes. "You."

"Me?"

"It was you, not Draco." Her voice rang with discovery. "Why couldn't I see it?"

Bane smirked at her. "Does that change your mind about anything that happened?"

"No." Her face flushed as she looked over to where Draco was obviously watching and listening to their conversation. It had been Draco in Lucius' bedroom, of that she was sure. But not the day after. "Are you really Harry?"

Bane smiled and leaned close to her face, letting his lips brush her ear. "Tom's dead, little girl. I'm not your Riddle."

Ginny gasped, pulling back.

"Who would have thought that you'd have this reaction, after I killed him for you? I thought I would relieve your nightmares, I had no idea it was how much you liked your dreams that made them nightmares."

"Fuck you." Ginny glared at him.

"After Lucius got there first?" Bane asked viciously. "I think not."

"How did you…?"

"Too many spiders, little Miss Muffet," Piper called from across the way. Ginny flinched, she had assumed she was out of earshot of the irritating white haired girl.

Ginny sneered and stormed out of the hall, in fine pique. Aside from Bane and Draco, no one appeared to notice.

"Harry? Bane?" Dumbledore called. "We need to talk."

The two identical men approached the Headmaster.

"Do either of you still have your father's Invisibility Cloak?"

"Yes," they both replied. Harry shook himself, adding, "It's safe."

"What does the cloak have to do with anything?" Bane asked, impatiently. "What is this about?"

"The Deathly Hallows."

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

TBC….. Coming Soon….

Why is Neville disappointed by the Sword of Gryffindor? How are the Deathly Hallows going to fit into a story without Voldemort? What in the bloody hell is up with the blue circles the twins painted?


	13. More Wrong

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Chapter Title:** More Wrong

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues))

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: _**Mature, R, Adult – rated for language, explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised. Not intended for underage readers.**_

**A/N's: Ok, so the first scene is very dark, sexual and intense. Read with caution, or **_**skip entirely, if you are uncomfortable or underage!!! **_And don't worry, the H/D scenes are coming.

Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

* * *

Ginny walked into her private rooms behind the medical wing, the door slamming behind her, and screamed. Every piece of glass in the small apartment shattered, sending splintery glass through the air. The glass bit at her skin, ripping small tears in her skin that leaked black liquid. In the next instant, the glass retracted and pieced itself back together. Ginny waved a hand over her face impatiently, feeling the itch of skin knitting back together.

"Who the hell is little Miss Muffet?" She yelled to the open room. It had to be a clue. Divination sorts like that pale Vates twit always left little hints like that.

Dropping to her knees, she curled inward, her thoughts racing. Hallows, hallows, hallows…where had she seen that word? Ah yes, Lucius' personal library. She smiled slowly. She would find the answers to the puzzle, she would figure out how to fix Harry. And then, then everyone would listen to her, appreciate her new talents. She stood, stretching and feeling new magic crouching inside her like some kind of large, feral cat.

With a loud pop, she Apparated to Malfoy Manor, easily passing the wards. She found her blond lover sitting before the fire, a glass of brandy his constant companion. She felt the first stirrings of arousal, at the inevitable battle of wills to come.

"Got through the wards, I see." Lucius regarded her with a raised eyebrow. "Learned some new tricks, have you?"

"You could say that." Ginny stepped closer. "I need to borrow a book."

"Another book?" He smiled, knowing that she was fully aware of what was coming, that she had an insatiable need to submit to him, to be punished. "That might cost you."

Slowly, she raised her hands to the buttons of her shirt and began undoing them. He watched her as she removed the rest of her clothing, waiting until she stood before him, completely naked. He regarded her vulnerable body, his face a mask of cold indifference.

She met his eyes. "I live to serve."

"On your knees, little Weasley," he commanded, coldly. Her face burning with shame, she dropped to her knees. "Crawl to me."

Lucius sipped his brandy as she crawled across the floor on her hands and knees, her bare breasts swinging with her motions. Ginny stared up at him, humiliation flooding her, and with it the heated wetness between her thighs that exposed her excitement at this treatment, the way she liked the cold, disregarding look on his face, the way her own excitement shamed her further, and fueled her desire higher.

She knelt before him, just in front of his knees. He drew his wand, and she flinched. Laughing softly, Lucius trailed the tip of it over her lips and down her chin. With an expert flick, he summoned a large ottoman from across the room. The velvet lined furniture bumped softly into her bare ass as it came to rest.

"Move around to the other side. Lay back, put your hands behind you, on the floor," Lucius directed. His eyes took in the signs of excitement in her movements, in the flushing of her skin, and the knowledge seemed to gleam inside his eyes like burning coals.

Crawling backwards, she did as he asked. As she settled back, her head hung slightly off the end furthest from where Lucius sat. She bent her knees and her elbows, placing both her feet and hands flat on the carpet at either end of the footstool. Lucius's knees almost touched the ottoman next to her trembling stomach, her feet positioned on his left, her head on his right.

"That's good, little slut." He continued to sit, trailing his wand over her bare skin. He circled the tip of a hardened nipple, tapping it sharply and watching it redden with satisfaction. "Spread your legs."

Ginny complied, moaning softly. She desperately wanted for him to touch her, but his continued refusal to do so, his impersonal directions, the cold gaze in his eyes was taking her arousal to a fever pitch. She needed this. Needed to be degraded by him, so she could face the world around her, be worthy of those she encountered. She needed to pay for the dark power that was building inside her, to clean it and make it okay for her to use it.

He ran the wand down her stomach, to the apex of her thighs. "Spread these, too. One hand."

Shaking, she lifted a hand and parted the glistening folds of her pussy for his perusal, hoping for a nod of approval. To her immense pleasure, none was forthcoming. He trailed the tip of his wand around her swollen clit, waiting for her breathing to hasten before rapping her clit even more sharply than he had her nipple. Ginny groaned deeply, the pain flashing and then being overwhelmed by pleasure. The tip of the wand was heated and vibrated and Lucius repeated the motions several times. She could smell her own arousal, knew that Lucius could as well.

Lucius ignored the pleading in her eyes, shining his nails on the lapel of his smoking jacket, before sitting back and lighting a cigar.

"What -- ?"

"Shut up, little slave." Lucius snapped, slapping her lightly on the thigh. "Do not speak unless spoken, too. Do not move unless directed. Follow my directions exactly, if you expect to get what you want."

"Yes, Master," she replied automatically. Her limbs were starting to cramp from their strange position, but she held it resolutely, spread before him in every way possible. Her fingers itched to move from where she held her pussy lips apart, to slide down to her clit and relieve the sexual tension he had built there, but she dared not. Not until, not unless he wanted her to.

He blew smoke rings over her body, tilting his head to regard her naked body. He licked his fingertip and swirled it over one nipple, his eyes ignoring her face. He brought the finger down, wiping the wetness off on her flat stomach. He pressed the dry tip of his finger to the raised bump of her clit, and pulled away, creating a scraping sensation as her flesh stuck to him that had her arching up off the ottoman.

"Down," he commanded, as if she were a dog. She obeyed and he rewarded her by repeatedly pressing his finger over her clit, watching her gasp and swallow her cries until he finally pulled the wand away.

Lucius took another puff off his cigar, and tapped the ashes off the end over her navel. Ginny flinched, but the ashes were cool by the time they hit her skin. She fought another moan, as he softly blew them off her flesh.

"I can tell you much you like this, like being my little slave, don't you?" Lucius whispered heatedly. He stood and moved to stand between her legs.

She nodded, shivering from the seductive tone of his voice. Lucius grasped her knees roughly to pull her further down the ottoman, so she no longer rested her weight on her free hand.

"You would do anything I told you, too, wouldn't you, little slut? No matter how degrading?" He smirked. "Answer me."

"Yes, Master," she said meekly.

"Put your hands on your tits." He twirled his wand through his elegant fingers.

Her hands rose to her full breast, covering the reddened nipples with her palms. Ginny looked up at him, her face seeking approval. He nodded. "Do you like touching yourself, little slave?"

"If it pleases you, Master."

"It does. But you can do better." His smile was lethal. "Pinch your nipples."

Ginny complied, softly squeezing her nipples and moaning as pleasure rippled through her. He continued to stare down at her, completely clothed, his eyes lit with desire, but his face twisted as if he was disgusted, a fact that she filled her with desire.

"Harder, little slut." He commanded, puffing on his cigar.

"Yes, Master." She pinched her nipples a little tighter, fighting another moan. Lucius merely rasied one blond eyebrow, unimpressed. She squeezed them harder, to the point of pain. Sensation burned brightly from her breasts down into to her belly and she squired, feeling liquid leak out of her core.

"That's better. Now pull and twist them. I want to see you wince in pain while you squirm, slave." He watched as she eagerly and viciously rolled her nipples in her own fingertips, the blushing peaks purpling slightly with the increased pressure. As he had promised, the feeling spiraled through her, making her squirm more and more.

"Do you want to come?"

"Yes, Master, please!"

"Too bad. Your release is not my concern." He reached down and parted her pussy lips with his fingers. She could feel his gaze like a stroking caress over her clit. "You are not allowed to come until I say so. Understand?"

"Yes, Master!"

"Begging will result in punishment, no matter what happens, is that understood?"

"Yes, Master."

"And you will be seeing to my pleasure over and over again until that happens."

"Thank you, Master!"

Lucius pulled his hand back to slap her clit. "I didn't tell you to speak!"

Ginny swallowed hard, obviously fighting her orgasm, even as she continued to play viciously with her breasts. Lucius layed his wand between her pussy lips, letting the tip of it rest just above her clit. It pulsed, sending warm vibrations that shook her to the core.

Lucius turned his back on her, walking to his private bar. He didn't even look back at her when he commanded, "Suck on your tits."

He took five torturous minutes to fix his drink. Ginny followed his orders the entire time, lifting first one plump and abused breast to her mouth and then the other. She continued to punish the other breast with her free fingers, savoring the pain and the pleasure in turn. She let her lips close over the stiff peaks, swirling her tongue around her over-sensitized flesh and sucking hard. The wand was still pulsing down below and she had no idea how much more she could take, but she felt eager to take it.

When he finally returned, he regarded her for a few minutes. "Merlin, you're a disgrace. How did you ever hide this from everyone?" He paused to sip his drink. "I should do this to you in front of them, expose you for the whore that you are. Would you like that, little slut? To be fucked and degraded in front of all your friends? The venerable Harry Potter, maybe? Would you like for me to show them what you really are?"

Ginny groaned, imagining first just Harry, then Harry, Bane and Draco witnessing her spread eagle and touching herself as Lucius sullied her body and she loved every minute of it.

"Would that humiliate you, little slut?"

"Yes, Master."

"Would you like it?"

"Yes, Master!"

Lucius laughed mockingly. "Bite your nipples as you suck. Hard."

Ginny obeyed, her sharp little teeth rouchly scraping her nipples. She was so close to orgasm, she could barely stand it.

"Stop!" Lucius demanded. She froze, her breast slipping wetly away from her mouth, her hands stilling on her flesh. To her dismay, the wand stopped pulsing, though the weight of it resting over her clit was nearly enough to push her past the brink. She took a few calming breaths, disappointed and frustrated, but secretly elated. There was more coming.

Lucius moved to stand behind her head, and she heard the zipper on his pants being undone. She looked up to see his hard, pale cock bobbing just over her head. He lowered himself, brushing his balls over her face.

Roughly, he reached down and squeezed her jaws with one hand, forcing her mouth wide open, then rudely shoved his balls fully into her mouth. "Suck."

With a hearty moan, Ginny complied. She felt almost as if she might suffocate, her mouth completely filled. She was not allowed the use of her hands to brace any of his, she merely had to accept whatever he wished to do to her face. She loved it.

"Put your fingers inside your pussy. Fuck yourself," he said, his voice harsh. He pulled his balls out of her mouth with a soft pop. Turning so he was straddling her face, he thrust his large cock into her mouth. Lucius drove in and out of her mouth, bumping the head of his erection against the back of her throat over and over. Looking over his shoulder, he watched her hand wander down her stomach, hesitating over the length of his wand still perched between her legs.

"Flip it over, so only the tip touches your clit." She complied, moaning around the dick thrusting between her lips. The wand instantly began pulsing and vibrating lowly, sending delicious pleasure through her. Her other hand moved back and forth between her breasts, deliciously continuing to abuse her nipples, as she drove one finger into her soaking passage.

Lucius slapped her clit again. "I said fingers, little slut." He looked down to see her eyes widen, liking the bulging of her cheeks as she sucked him off. "That'll be three now."

She mumbled some reply, and thrust three fingers deep into her pussy, scissoring them in and out and writhing helplessly. Tears gathered in the corner of Ginny's eyes, shining with fierce pleasure.

As she started to come (without permission, Lucius noted with glee), he pulled out of her mouth, splattering cum down her chin. Stepping away from her as she gasped for breath, he conjured a mirror, suspending it over her naked, debased body, so he could see what he had done to her. His wand was still rudely in between her pussy lips, her swollen breasts were bruised from her own rough treatment of them, and the cum was starting to dry on her chin. She stared at her reflection with something akin to awe.

Lucius smiled. "Get up and go get your book. Then we'll start on your punishment."

Ginny stood up, raising a hand to wipe at her face.

"No, leave it."

Ginny lowered her hand obediently, her eyes already focused on the book she wanted: The Deathly Hallows: Mythology and Truth. She smiled, tasting the saltiness of Lucius' cum caked on her lower lip like frosting, hand already reaching for the tome as she said with a note of triumph in her voice, "Yes, Master."

When she looked back, he was gone.

* * *

Lucius pushed open the doors to the Mos Mordre, a seedy little tavern located at the end of Knockturn Alley. He walked to his favorite booth in the back and sat down, feeling at the very top of his game. It had been a long time since a sexual encounter had entranced him so thoroughly. The voraciousness of Ginny Weasley was both compelling and addictive.

"Well, look what the kneazle dragged in. Lucius Malfoy, as I live and breathe."

Lucius looked up, startled to find someone else tucked into his favorite booth. "Hello Severus."

"I thought you were dead."

"You should have known better." Lucius raised a brow at him, before signaling a buxom bar maid to bring him one of whatever Snape was having. He settled his cane across his lap with the quiet grace afforded the extremely wealthy.

"A man can dream." Snape laughed darkly at some private joke as he tossed back the rest of his pint. "How much can dreams hurt?"

"Depends on who's dreaming," Lucius replied. The bar maid put two fresh pints in front of them with a saucy wink. Lucius smirked back at her.

"In vino veritas, my friend." Snape raised his drink in a mocking salute.

Lucius stared down into his drink, his mind on the disturbed little redhead that he had left desecrated in his personal study. He took a hearty swallow. "So how have you been, old boy?"

"So we're going to talk like old school chums now, are we? As if I wasn't violently happy to think you'd been erased from this world for good?" Snape snorted.

"You don't seem to be going anywhere. And really, what does it matter anyway, Sev?" Lucius pointed out, his tone philosophical. "War's done, lost, won – however you see it. And we _are_ old school chums, housemates even. Why not share a drink, remember the distant past and let old grudges die? At least for a night?"

"I'm not going to keep your secrets just because you buy me a drink, Lucius. I'm more than capable of buying my own these days." Severus sighed. "I fully intend to tell all and sundry that you're alive. You'll be lucky if I don't charm a giant arrow to float over your head, pointing at you."

"I am done hiding, or I wouldn't be at a public tavern. I don't want anything from you. I just don't feel like finding a different table." Lucius shifted in his seat. "So what will it be – are you leaving or drinking?"

"Fine." Severus took a long swallow of drink.

"Relax, Sev." Lucius made a vague gesture at the dark, dirty window. "Whatever we are now, we were both Dark Wizards, once. A dark night still suits us, still belongs to us. The past calls when it wants to. The mark is still there." Lucius lifted his sleeve to show the Dark Mark still emblazoned on his skin. "It may not burn, but it doesn't fade."

Snape toasted him with his glass in another mocking salute. "I hoped it would die with that insane bastard, but no, for once in his twisted life, he was right. It's permanent, as he always said it would be."

"Do you remember the day you received the Mark?" Lucius asked idly.

"Yes." Snape eye's darkened with memory, his lips twisting into a wry smile. "And the night after."

"Ah, debauchery and destruction. I had such a hunger for it all, back then." Lucius pulled out two cigars, offering one to Snape. There was a strange twist in his stomach as he compared the night he had shared the celebration of being Marked with the other fresh initiates to the acts he had just inflicted on Ginny Weasley. They had all had a strong hunger for debauchery and destruction then. But he had never met one whose thirst for darkness transcended his own. Until now, until Ginny. It was a little unsettling, but he dismissed the worry from his mind. He was a Malfoy, after all, he could handle a little darkness.

Snape was hunched over his glass, guilt written on his face.

"What is it, Sev? You haven't made your peace with what happened? Or has something else driven you to darkened memory lanes and disreputable bars?" Lucius was somewhat unconcerned with the answer, only asking to be polite.

"Nothing of importance." Snape's scowl deepened.

"Really? How's your little mudblood?" Lucius stared down at his drink to hide his amused smirk.

"Call her that again, _old friend_," Snape hissed, his hand resting on the pocket hiding his wand.

"Ahh, girl troubles. Ever wonder why they're called the fairer sex?" Lucius shook his head. "Seems like a misnomer to me."

"Change subjects or shut up."

"Manner, manners, Sev." Lucius shook a finger at him. "Perhaps if you were a little more forceful, a little more like your old self, you wouldn't be driven to drink by a little girl."

Severus signaled for another round, replying dismally, "I severely doubt that's the solution to the problem."

"I see. Scared her, did you?" Lucius's question was rueful. He was going to have to go a lot further if he wanted to scare his little slave. "Let me guess, she always had a little crush on the scary Potions professor, and you were always tenting your pants over the way she bent over a cauldron…"

"Lucius," Severus growled.

"But you were a little too rough, and now she doesn't want to let you under her little uniform skirt, right?" Lucius continued mercilessly.

"I didn't scare her," Snape bit out. If anyone was a little freaked out by the intensity of their last encounter, it had been him.

"Oh my." Lucius grinned. "So, the little Gryffindor likes it rough. How interesting. Perhaps I should have paid more visits to my son's dungeon."

Snape straightened, his hand itching to reach for his wand. But the use of magic was not permitted by patrons in this particular tavern, with its particular patronage.

"I would have bent her over my knee, shown you what to do with a girl that wants it that badly." Lucius bared his teeth, predatorily. "Lifted her skirts and demonstrated what a real man can do. Once upon a time, you would have, too."

"I'm warning you, Lucius. You have to leave this bar sometime. And no one will miss you." Snape looked as if he wanted to leave, but he remained.

"So, what's the problem, then? Afraid you can't keep up?" Lucius laughed. "I could give you pointers."

"And what's driven you to drink, Luce?" Snape sat back at last, sneering at him, taking the offensive. "Missing Narcissa?"

"Hardly." Lucius' eyes registered no pain at the reminder of his wife's suicide.

"So, have you found someone gullible enough to fall into your bed, or is it sexual frustration that drove you here?" Snape's eyes drilled into him, searching for the answers. Lucius remembered Snape's skill at Legilemency just in time to keep him from seeking out all the details.

"Oh, I see." Snape smirked. The glimpse into Lucius' recent memories had been scintillating, but had not revealed the identity of whatever tart Lucius was bedding. But her body had been young, supple, flexible. She had spread herself eagerly, offered herself up to him as if he could solve all of her problems. Snape snorted. As if fucking a Malfoy ever solved any problems. "Let me guess, a naïve little strumpet, with too many daddy issues, and very little self esteem. How old is she?"

"Almost as old as yours," Lucius said with a smile.

"Innocent isn't usually your taste," Snape commented.

"Not really hers, either." His voice was slightly self deprecating, but lined with masculine amusement, Lucius confessed, "She's more than a match for me."

"Someone more depraved than you? I'm in shock."

"You really would be." Lucius smirked again. This odd semi-reminiscing had reminded him of who exactly he was, what he had done. Some men would not be proud of such past actions, but Lucius recognized strength and power as assets, no matter how they were gained. He had little care for regret. And a certain redhead that needed taught her place. He stood.

"Leaving so soon?" Snape yawned. "And I was so enjoying the company."

"Another time, old friend." Lucius straightened his expensive suit and robes. "I have a delicious morsel to abuse."

Snape glared at him. "I hope she's the death of you."

"Don't worry Severus, if you can't summon the strength to bend the little mudblood over your desk, I'm sure she'll find someone who can." Lucius laughed as he walked out of the tavern, striding with purpose and predatory pleasure. Time to get back to his little slave, and see if she was ready to be punished.

"Stupid, pureblood, bwa-ha-ha-ing prat," Snape muttered as Lucius left. He finished his drink hastily. Suddenly, he really wanted to get back to Hermione as soon as possible. He pushed Lucius's words away from his mind, once again trying to settle the unease that had grown since the strange incident with Hermione and the secret passageway behind the fireplace.

* * *

Harry gave a cursory glance at his mirror. He absently ran a hand through his wild shock of black hair, not really paying attention to his appearance. He had shaved, and he was dressed in Professor's formal robes. In a few minutes, he would walk downstairs to the Great Hall for his first Sorting Ceremony as a professor. He remembered how awestruck he had been, a trembling first year standing before that long table of adult wizards, desperately impressed by these adults who were supposedly wizards, just like him.

He stepped into the Great Hall, eyes filled with memory as he took in the floating candles and enchanted star ceiling. This night would be a first in Hogwart's history. Never before had students been admitted into different levels, all at once. A fact that failed to impress Harry, but seemed to have caught Hermione's attention Harry noticed as he sat beside her. Draco was already rolling his eyes from his seat on the other side of her. Despite his disregard for the new bit of Hogwart's trivia, Harry could not shake the feeling of inexorable destiny laced in this night. Tonight was important, he was sure of it, he just had no idea why. He spared a glance in Bane's direction. His counterpart sat on the opposite side of Draco, and currently rested his arm across the back of Draco's chair, though the blonde was currently leaning forward out of contact and unaware of it. Harry glared, something feral growling in his chest at the possessive gesture.

A commotion at the front of the hall alerted him to the arrival of the Vates twins, followed by a long line of new students, preparing to be sorted. Dumbledore stood, smiling benevolently at the incoming group. The sorting hat was twitching in his hands, almost as if it were trying to twirl in different directions to see what was going on. Piper skipped ahead of her brother to lean up and whisper something to Dumbledore, whose eyes twinkled brighter as he listened to the white haired girl.

The Headmaster put the Sorting Hat down on the table, turning it slightly so that it faced the line on new professors. It mushed itself into its proper face, and sighed loudly in relief, before squinting its folds as if searching for something.

"Ahh, Master Black. So good to have you hear, so long it's been!" The Hat exclaimed, pointing it's comments at Bane.

"How did you – what do you – Me?" Bane looked flabbergasted. The entire room turned to stare at him. Neville eyes burned brightly as they flickered between Bane and Harry.

"Now, now we can do things properly, the way they should always have been done. Now I can sort correctly, thoroughly, as intended," the Hat said with deep satisfaction.

Piper had rejoined her brother, and the two seemed particularly involved in readjusting the new students so that they stood within the blue circles they had created previously. Harry his attention back to the Hat as it hopped further along the table, coming to rest directly in front of Bane, much to the rest of the table's consternation.

"You need to be sorted," the Hat stated, firmly. "You are first."

"I was already sorted," Bane protested. "I'm a Gryffindor."

"Are you?" it asked, coyly. "Are you certain? Harry Potter was sorted, here, so many years ago, that's true, and placed in Gryffindor. But you are not exactly Harry Potter, and his placing was somewhat dubious to say the least. Never seen someone so frightened of Slytherin."

Harry ignored Snape's snort of amusement, his heart racing. "Resort us both, then, if you like."

"Keep out of this, hero," Bane sneered back at him.

"But where to put you, Master Black, is another matter entirely." The Hat seemed to dance on the table with eagerness, and a dark sort of glee that nobody had witnessed it display before. "I should re-sort the whole lot, everyone ever sorted soon. But no, none of them, not before you."

"Fine then." Bane glanced at Draco, then at Harry, before nodding once more. "Let's see where I belong."

Draco stood and picked up the Hat, cradling it carefully, and positioned it over Bane's head. Harry stared at Bane, watching the Sorting Hat being lowered onto his head. He could hear his childhood voice begging not to be put in Slytherin. Harry was certain that Bane was every quality that had ever been noticed by the Hat as Slytherin, he had never been so sure of what was going to happen next in his entire life. He knew to the marrow of his bones where Bane would be sorted.

And he could not have been more wrong.

**TBC…**


	14. Dry Crackle of Disaster

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Chapter Title:** **Dry Crackle of Disaster**

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues)

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: _**Mature, R, Adult – rated for language, explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised. Not intended for underage readers.**_

**A/N's: Ever Read the Fall of the House of Usher? The first scene sort of feels like that story to me. shrug Could be because I went to the Edgar Allen Poe museum in VA recently.**

Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

* * *

When the Sorting Hat touched Bane's head, chaos broke lose through the Great Hall. The stone walls of Hogwarts shook and shuddered as if trying to stretch limbs long ago gone numb. The castle groaned, the grinding sound echoing through the halls and stairwells. A giant crack sounded through the Great Hall, as if the castle had been struck by lightening. All the occupants of the room seemed frozen, staring around them in bewilderment and fear.

Prophet pulled his sister into a loose hug, holding her inside one of the blue circles they had drawn. Piper let her brother hold her in place, but looked around the Hall with a rather pleased smile on her face. Her musical voice called out above the din of the shaking, and yes, now _moving_ castle. "It's alright! Nobody move! Stay inside your circles!"

With no small amount of astonishment, Harry looked down to see that indeed, the entire Head Table was encased in a blue circle, and he hadn't even noticed it. He also now grasped his wand in one hand, and his sword in the other, and he hadn't noticed himself doing that either. He tensed, feeling his automatic shift into battle stance, but no enemies had appeared to fight. The castle itself seemed to be shaking apart.

Bane tried desperately to pull the Sorting Hat off his head, but it had stubbornly tied its ribbons around his chin, and refused to be budged. "Get the bloody hell off me!"

"Temper, temper, Master Black!" The Hat swayed as if wagging a finger at him. "This is all for you, you know. Stop fighting and watch…"

The stone wall around the east side of the Great Hall now bulged forward, curving towards them as a majestic new tower rose. A grand portrait of five people standing in the Great Hall in medieval dress popped into existence and seemed to be covering the entrance to the grand edition. A fifth table popped up in between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw table and new banners began to unfurl above it. The banners were solid black, save one white downward pointing triangle at the bottom of the pennant. In the triangle stood a black, rearing, skeletal horse with bat-like wings raised defiantly on either side of its shoulders and swooping down around it's length to form a circle. _A thestral_.

Dumbledore's eyes darkened and his breath caught.

Through the enchanted roof of the Great Hall, they could see the tower winging its way skyward. As the tower finished hefting itself high above the castle, it branched out on either side, making three different conical tower heads, one to the left, one to the right, and one straight up and taller than the other two. Around the highest point, there was what appeared to be an Atrium with a stable in the middle. Several thestrals could be seen circling the tower and landing in the Atrium structure. Several students gasped and pointed at the eerie flying creatures, never having seen them before.

"Long live the House of Black!" The Sorting Hat crowed triumphantly. The Hat then chuckled conspiratorially to Bane, "Which you Master Black, are the first member of since the House's founding so many years ago. Thestrals value independence and determination, they are duty bound to lead and serve. They align purposes to achieve the greater good. And you, Master Black should be the head of the house."

Harry was shaking violently now. He sheathed his sword and put his wand back in his pocket, swallowing thickly. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but he knew it was terribly important.

"Well, well, Potter. It looks like you've been quite the secret keeper, haven't you?" Draco's voice tickled the back of Harry's neck.

"Malfoy," Harry acknowledged the blond, his voice low and raspy.

Draco stood directly behind Harry's left shoulder, one hand clasping the right for balance as he leaned close to talk to Harry. His blond hair fell in his eyes, and he kept his gaze down.

"You're next," Draco whispered.

"What?" Harry took a deep breath to steady himself. Draco's proximity was sending shivers down his spine, and he hadn't stopped shaking yet.

"To be sorted, Potter. You're next." Draco smiled, noticing goosebumps rise along Harry's neck. Fuck you, Bane, Draco thought. He may not want to be with me, but Harry still _wants_ me. "Any other lost towers hidden in your brain, do you think?"

"No, just that one," Harry replied darkly. He spared a glance at Bane, who was staring up at the new tower, awe written on his face, the Sorting Hat still stuck to his head.

"So tell me, Potter," Draco continued in his silken tones. "Were you really scared of Slytherin, or did you just not want to be that close to me?"

"I fear nothing." Harry shrugged him off, walking towards Bane.

"Once more with _feeling_, Potter." Draco's laughter rang in Harry's ears as he moved away.

Bane had finally managed to pull the Sorting Hat off his head. It was still jiggling, cackling with delight. It pointed its satin ribbons at Harry like an accusing finger. "You, Mr. Potter! Care to be resorted now?"

Harry nodded grimly. The rest of the hall was still echoing with whispered murmurs, people staring at the new tower and rubbing their eyes like it might vanish back from where it had come. Piper and Prophet ran up and down the line of new students, apparently offering them assurances that everything was fine. One girl with blond pigtails was crying hysterically, pointing to a large portrait that had landed less than an inch away from her…just outside her circle. The man in the portrait was also crying hysterically, pointing at the little blond girl. Piper patted the girl's back comfortingly, saying over and over again, "But I promise, it was never going to hit you. Really."

Harry picked the hat up, noting Draco's fixed interest on the result of this next course of action, and resolutely placed it on his head.

"So, Mr. Potter. No begging not to be placed in Slytherin this time…" the Hat mused. "Not surprising, a lot has changed in your head since I last looked in upon it. You certainly are on the way to achieve greatness, as I knew you would be."

"Just hurry up and get this over with already, will you?" Harry hissed coldly.

"Hmmm, it seems a little Slytherin ambition has knocked the shine off your Gryffindor nobility. Too bad it did nothing for your manners." The Hat wobbled back and forth a little. "Black!"

Harry nodded with acceptance, quickly plucking the Hat, which had always made him more than a little uncomfortable, off his head and tossing it dismissively on the table. Dumbledore met Harry's eyes with an appraising look. Harry fought the urge to glare back at him, and marched back over to stand next to Hermione. She and Snape were working to clean up the Great Hall as best they could so the Sorting Ceremony could continue. Together they levitated debris and banished broken glass. Harry gave them a hand and within seconds, they were ready to resume.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, gesturing for everyone to settle down. In moments the hall was silent, all eyes expectantly on the wizened Headmaster. "My apologies for the interruption. Those of you new to the school should know that in the world of magic, and particularly in this castle, surprises are more apt to happen then not. Are all of you uninjured?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"Excellent." Dumbledore turned to the Sorting Hat, who was somewhat disgruntled and tapping itself on the table impatiently. "The next name, please?"

"Granger, Hermione." The hat called triumphantly.

"But, er – Sorting Hat," Dumbledore interjected. "Miss Granger has also, already been sorted before."

"I would re-sort everyone!" The hat danced back and forth with glee. "But for now, just the ones I know should be changed."

"Let him do it!" Prophet called. "It is important."

"Alright," Dumbledore agreed kindly. "Please proceed."

The Hat sorted Hermione into Ravenclaw, though noting that she was perhaps the "bravest Ravenclaw I have seen since I started." Ginny was resorted into Hufflepuff, much to her puzzlement. Much to her annoyance, the Vision Twins, as she now referred to them in her mind, did not seem puzzled by this development at all, merely amused. They were the next to be sorted, and before approaching the hat, they dropped their belongings off at the Ravenclaw table, asking a few students to move down and make room. The Sorting hat declared them correct in their assumption with a touch of annoyance in its voice, then moved on to the rest of the students, methodically going through the process, much as it had every year before, with the new addition of a fifth house.

The Head Table was oddly silent through the feast, once it had commenced. Harry idly watched the thestrals flying across the enchanted ceiling. His growing unease throbbed in time to the raspy beat of their wings even through the castle ceiling.

Dumbledore dispatched Snape, Hermione, Draco, Harry and Bane to investigate the new tower. Ginny watched with envious couriousity for a moment before her eyes lit on Neville Longbottom

"Hello Neville." Ginny placed a delicate hand on his shoulder.

"Hello Ginny," he replied calmly, as if he had known she was approaching. He was seated in the very last seat behind the Head table, so she summoned a chair and sat it at the end juxtaposed to him. He watched her sit down, his eyes too appraising. "You've changed."

"Yes, apparently, I'm a Hufflepuff now." She offered him a wan grin. "It's funny, I was about to say the same thing about you."

"It's been a long time," Neville said with a sigh.

"Yes it has," she answered warmly. She pushed away the niggling hint of shame that beckoned from his all too knowing gaze. Neville couldn't really look all the way through her, couldn't see what she had been doing, what she had become. Besides, as Hermione often said, everyone has their secrets now. "Where have you been?"

"Here. There." Neville's eyes flashed. "Everywhere."

"That was informative." Her tone held no sharpness.

Neville smiled enigmatically.

"I heard you were working on a 'special project.' Something for Dumbledore," she prompted.

"I was."

"The war has ended, Neville. Surely you can talk about it now?" She wasn't sure why she was pushing so hard. It wasn't as if she didn't have plenty that she still wanted to hide. But there was something about Neville, about the way he had changed, about the glances he occasionally cast at Harry, that told her intuitively that whatever he had been doing was important. Still important.

"Ended has it?" Neville laughed, a harsh, brittle sound. "Let's just say, I'm not done yet."

"With the special project …?" Ginny swallowed as Neville cast a sharp look at her. "Okay, moving on." Might as well change the subject. She didn't know exactly what Neville meant, but she was certainly not done yet, either, and she, too, would rather not talk about it. "This thing with Harry and the House of Black is crazy, huh?"

Neville's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "Crazy."

"Not to mention – creepy thestrals been living on the roof all this time – and no one knew." Ginny shuddered. The dry rasp of their wings scraped over her nerves like a salt scrub.

"I knew. Harry knew." Neville rolled his neck as if to stretch, but Ginny noticed that he used the gesture to once again check on the location of the room's occupants. "Luna knew."

"I was sorry to hear about what happened to her." Ginny bit her lip. "I know you were friends."

"Are."

"Pardon?"

"Death doesn't end friendship. Just life." Neville's eyes were as steady as the cliffs above the lake. "That's what Hufflepuffs say, anyway. But you know them – all obsessed with loyalty." His voice was full of bitterness.

"Right. Of course." Ginny bit her lip, tearing it a little. The trace of blood tasted like the word 'loyalty' to her. "So, you could see them, before?"

Neville stared at her.

"Right. Sorry." Ginny sighed. "Didn't it use to be easier for old friends to talk.?"

"Yeah, it did." Neville smiled tightly. "So, you and Harry must be pretty close now."

"Yeah?" Ginny realized that Neville was fishing for information. Something she didn't think she would have figured out before spending mass amounts of time with Lucius.

"Well, I just thought, since you're the only one of your family actually speaking to him, and what with him saving your life and all …"

"How'd you know about that?"

Neville merely shrugged, as if it was unimportant. "Oh, I've been around."

Ginny thought about the day in the woods. The day that Harry had held her and hurt her, and told her what darkness had spawned the Bounty Hunter that he had become. The memory felt bruised, as if that day had broken something within her.

"Harry's not really close to anyone anymore." She gave a mocking little laugh, gesturing at the wide berth Harry was giving Bane. "Not even himself."

"Seems pretty close to Draco."

"Don't ask Neville. I'll never understand it, not in a million life times. It's just … you know. Them. Harry and Malfoy."

"Isn't it always?" Neville's voice held a trace of bitterness, origin unknown. "It's all about them. It's _always_ all about them." Neville's voice took on a harsh, stark amusement as he added, "The rest of us? We're just spectators."

" I know what you mean. Now. Before. They've always been …" she trailed off, at a loss for words to explain the interactions between them, interactions that had captivated the school, made their fights feel life or death, made their story THE story, their rivalry legend.

"Epic?"

"Exactly." Ginny nodded, but looked at Neville very carefully. "But I hardly think you're just a spectator." She added silently, _and neither am I._

"So, that sword Bane's carrying around …" Neville gestured subtly with a nod of his head.

"Oh, the copy of Harry's sword?"

"Copy?"

"Yeah – Harry's sword is the Sword of Gryffindor. And Bane just pulled a copy out of thin air. I guess it has something to do with him being a copy of Harry – I'm not sure. Hermione tried to explain it to me, but I – well, wasn't really listening, actually." Ginny smiled.

"Just a copy," Neville muttered,

"Is something wrong, Neville?"

"No," Neville said softly, before looking up at her. "Nothing at all."

"How long are you going to stay here, Neville?" Ginny asked, as he once again locked eyes on Harry. It seemed to Ginny that Neville has developed a nervous habit of always wanting to know where Harry was. She understood it well. Harry had been their savior for so long, his survival tantamount to their own for so long, sometimes it now seemed that everything would be alright as long as Harry was. Of course, it was obvious now that Harry was not alright. Maybe he never had been.

"Oh, I don't know. As long as it takes, I guess," he replied off-handedly.

"As long as it takes for what?" She asked, frowning.

"For the war to end."

* * *

Harry and Bane approached the large painting of a rearing Thestral that covered the entrance into the Black Tower. The creature paced closer to the front of the painting, nostrils flaring.

"Password?" It's gravelly voice was like the crunching of autumn leaves.

"Carpe Noctem," Harry and Bane intoned together, instinctively.

The thestral grinned and the door swung open.

Hermione met Harry's eyes as she entered the tower behind him, but she said nothing.

Draco let out a low whistle. The place was spotless, as if it had been suspended in time from its creation. The furniture was plush black leather, the wood fixtures a deeply polished cherry wood. The room was accented with blood red cushions.

At the back of the common room was a tall fireplace carved from black marble, its hearth was cooly pristine. A ten foot tall portrait of a man with unruly black hair and shining black eyes stared imperiously down at them, a hint of a smirk on his face. He said nothing.

On the mantle of the fireplace was a gleaming sword with an intricate ebony handle and hand guard, on a stainless steal rest. Harry and Bane both sucked in a breath as the light filtering from the tower windows kissed the sword, making it shine. There was an inscription carved on the mantle.

"Mors vincit omnia." Draco gave a harsh, humorless laugh.

"What does it mean?" Harry asked.

"Death conquers all," Hermione answered him, her voice strained. Her eyes were glossy, as if she was looking through the scene before her.

The air felt hot and dry to Harry. He tried to wet his lips, but it didn't seem to help. He reached for the sword, grasping the handle and cradling it in his arms. He swallowed thickly.

"Well, I can guess what that is." Snape watched the expression on the two Harry's faces carefully.

"The sword of Black," Harry said. His voice scraped over Draco's eardrums like scorpions skittering across the desert sand.

"We should seal this room. Seal it and never return." Hermione wandered away from the little group to look out the window.

"Hermione?" Snape approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She jerked away from him to stare pointedly at Draco, her eyes a deep black – the whole eye, even the parts that were supposed to be white.

"No, Salazar. I will never let this tower become a part of this place. It cannot be salvaged. It must not be." She turned away again. "Maybe Godric's right. Maybe we should burn it to the ground and salt the earth."

"Well, well. So much for Divination being a load of hogwash, eh Hermione?" Bane smirked. He turned baleful eyes on Snape. "Is there a reason you didn't tell me Hermione is having visions now?"

"Tell which one of you?" Snape scoffed. "Contrary to popular belief, the whole world does not revolve around you, Mr. Potter." He idly recalled Hermione telling him that he referred to Harry as such to remind himself that Harry was James' son. He had never believed her until he realized how reluctant he was to call him 'Mr. Black.'

"Could have fooled me," Draco muttered.

"He won't get back in. We . . . he'll be gone soon. We have the swords now." Hermione turned to look at Harry and the sword he held. "Fates forbid he ever gets his hand on his own."

Harry clutched the sword reflexively. Bane placed himself between Hermione and Harry. Draco shuddered. "How long does this last?"

Snape shook his head, eyes fixed on the figure of Hermione staring through the sword that Harry held. He said softly again, "Hermione?"

Hermione blinked a couple of times, the pigment returning to her eyes and she swayed on her feet. In a moment, Severus was by her side, sweeping her into his embrace, the sweeping folds of his robe enveloping her protectively.

"We should never have opened this tower." She was shaking. "Harry, you should put that sword back and we should seal this place again."

"No!" Harry and Bane cried.

Hermione flinched, and Snape glared at them, standing protectively behind and nearly over Hermione like some kind of protective bat in his black robes. Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "While the two of you talking at the same time is extremely annoying, I happen to agree this time." His grey eyes met Hermione's. "It's too late to stop it. You can't undo the opening of a flood gate. We'll have to face what comes."

"It stays open. It's time." Bane's voice held the certainty of the ocean tide.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Harry." Hermione's eyes were deeply troubled. "This feels wrong to me." Her eyes pleaded with him. "Doesn't it feel wrong to you?"

"Nothing before has ever felt this right," Bane answered her. Harry nodded, his grip on the sword confirmation of Bane's statement.

Harry's voice was resolved. "It stays open."

* * *

The thirty year old man slipped through the woods like a shadow sliding in a dark room. Silver clouds circled the iridescent moon, trickling the light randomly over his path, but never daring to touch his face. Ahead, he could see the towers of Hogwarts arcing gracefully above the tree-line.

He reached the edge of the trees and stepped out, tilting his face up to the sky. He had strong features, his emerald eyes sparkled from under a fringe of pitch-black hair. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the night air of the forest. He stretched with a cat-like grace. Clenching his fists, he felt his strength coming back. His eyes lit on the majestic castle settled on a smooth lake, twinkling with light from the inside. A new tower had risen, reaching for the apex of the sky, its dark heights blotting out the swath of flashing stars that used to be visible above the castle.

Smiling deeply with satisfaction, he set his hands on his hips, threw his head back and laughed. The deep triumphant sound rumbled like thunder across the grounds. _He was back…yes…he was back._

* * *

"Prophet, Piper? I would like to have a few words with you in my office, if you do not mind," Dumbledore said as soon as the doors to Black Tower closed behind his little search party.

"No, thank you," Piper replied politely, before wondering across the room to sit somewhat idly beside the doors leading out of the Great Hall.

Dumbledore stared after her curiously.

"I would be more than happy to accompany you to your office, Headmaster." Prophet offered him a warm smile.

"Thank you." Dumbledore returned the young man's smile and led him to the Headmaster's office. Prophet followed respectfully behind him, though he showed none of the wonder and curiousity most students displayed on their first trip to the auspicious room. Dumbledore hid a small smile. That was to be expected of such strong Divination artists.

"Prophet, may I ask if there is any difference between yours and your sister's abilities?" He asked after they were seated with a tea tray between them.

"Yes, sir. She's more gifted, but I …" Prophet gave a careless smile. "I am more coherent, I suppose."

"I see."

* * *

Harry, Bane and Hermione emerged from the Tower in a flurry of tension. Draco and Snape appeared a moment later, as the three in front of them involved themselves in a loud argument that both men felt was all too _Gryffindor_ for their liking, despite the fact that none of the trio were Gryffindors anymore. Then they split off in three different directions, without a word to their Slytherin counterparts. Severus and Draco exchanged slightly disgusted expression for a second, then Severus swept off, his robes flaring dramatically behind him. Draco snorted as he watched him go.

"Think he practices that move in the mirror?" A teasing voice asked behind him. He turned to see Piper perched on the end of the Ravenclaw Table, her smile provocative and mocking.

"Ms. Vates," Draco drawled with an acknowledging head nod.

"Draco," she purred with a matched incline of her head.

"Can I help you?"

"Probably, but as per our last conversation, that would probably be inappropriate." She laughed, a tinkling sound like the chatter of tiny bells. "However, I think I may be in a position to help you."

"Is that so?" He raised a brow intrigued, casting a glance around the Great Hall. It was empty.

"It's okay. No one's coming for awhile." She smiled at him, before turning and seating herself, legs criss-crossed facing the other way on the table. "And this is as private as needed."

Draco shook his head. He gracefully leapt on the table and seated himself in a reciprocal position. "Do tell."

She smirked. "Even the way you sit is smug. You'd think you were the one that knew everything."

* * *

Dumbledore steepled his hands, resting his elbows on his desk. "I imagine you know what I would like to talk to you about."

"You want to know if I realize that you have pursued the Deathly Hallows for a long time, and actually have perfect knowledge of where two of them are." Prophet took a sip of his tea.

"Yes."

"Forgive me, Headmaster, but may I speak freely?" Prophet set his cup down and sat up straight.

"Of course, please." Dumbledore fixed the young man with a focused stare, a twinge of fear in his eyes.

"You're wondering if you can give up that which you have held so dear for so long. You cherished it for both the right and wrong reasons, knowing it was better in your hands than someone else's – but knowing that you still wanted to keep it for the wrong reasons."

Dumbeldore nodded once.

"Pardon me, sir, but you won't have a choice. You must sacrifice that object."

"What if I cannot?" Albus's voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. He had never used that voice with a student. It was his job to instill confidence, after all. But he had too much respect for this line of Seers to lie to Prophet.

"A question on many people's minds today," Prophet commented, casually inspecting his nails.

"Oh?"

"Mr. Potter, for instance." Prophet sat back, picking up his cup once more. He extended his arm across the back of his chair, letting the tea cup dangle from a few fingers. Albus thought the gesture almost Malfoy like. With a vicious grin, Prophet added, "Mr. Malfoy, too."

* * *

"So what would you like to tell me, Piper?" Malfoy's voice was deceptively calm, a trick he had learned from his father.

"Being a Malfoy lends you to being stubborn. Arrogance alone should have been your family crest. But it's odd to think that you can't decide whether or not you want your toys broken." Piper studied him for a second. "I had suspected you would rather it be put back together again, just so you could break it."

"Toys?"

"Coy is a good look on you." Piper leaned back, balancing on her hands. "Rather lost on me, though."

"So, why wouldn't I want my 'toys' put back together?"

"Because one will drown you, and the other will consume you. If they're together, you hardly have a real chance, do you?" She flipped her hair over one shoulder. "Funny how all the king's horses and all the king's men are always against _you_."

"So, what do I do?" Draco rested his elbows on his knees, bringing his hands together to rest his chin on them.

"You let them be put back together."

"What if I cannot?"

"You, like the tragic Mr. Potter, have no choice in the matter." Piper's eyes widened. "Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt. A famous Lucius once said that."

Draco's eyes flashed. "Fate leads the willing and drags the unwilling."

"Sometimes there is no choice, but the wrong one," Piper said shrewdly. "Darkness and pain are coming. Are waiting by the light of the moon, outside this very castle."

"So, how do we choose between two evils?" Draco fought the urge to rub his temples. Talking to Diviners always gave him a headache.

"As a Malfoy, I thought you would know." She smirked.

"Take the one you haven't tried."

"No choice needed – take both." Piper flashed him a feral grin that oddly reminded him of his father.

* * *

Dumbledore felt the unfamiliar urge to sigh. There would be no rushing Prophet. Prophet would tell him what he needed to know at the speed with which he felt it should be told.

"Mr. Potter is wasting his energy on an already answered question." Prophet rolled his neck, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Harry has no choice. He is stuck playing the hero – that is who he is, is his destiny. He must always sacrifice all for the greater good, which very rarely includes himself. He sacrifices everything for those he loves. The irony of course, is that it is usually those he loves that get sacrificed. He loses them to Death, or pushes them away for their own sake, for his sense of duty."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Harry will do what must be done. He will never back down, or quit until he has succeeded or is dead." Prophet glanced over at Dumbledore, his eyes entirely white, no color, no pupil showing. His voice took on a hypnotic quality, low and even, hair-raising. "Donatio mortis causa. He doesn't dread death, doesn't welcome it, just accepts it."

"Harry is a desert – the air around him is arid, dry, gritty, pensive. He is ruthless. He strikes quicker than a rattlesnake, with less warning. He chooses his priorities with stark detachment, but will secure these priorities with grim determination. He will not be stopped, or deterred, and he will use any means necessary to get it done."

So entranced by the white haired young man's words and voice, Dumbledore did not sense the presence of someone outside the office door.

"He is bitter. There are no rewards in the end for Harry, just more pain. Unending sacrifice and duty. He doesn't care whether he lives or dies. He refuses to care about anything, anyone, anymore, because that would put passion and emotion behind the vast amount of unique power he holds, and that's too volatile, too dangerous. Only his sheer detachment protects him from darkness, he doesn't dare let himself be tempted by wants and desires – if he did, he fears he could not resist the need to use that power for his own purposes – no, better he believes that happiness does not exist, than that he could achieve it by wicked means."

Dumbledore sucked in a harsh breath, grief for Harry welling up inside, trimmed with the guilt of knowing that whether or not he himself had a choice, he had led Harry down that path, on purpose.

"And Mr. Malfoy . . . is a lightning storm, with no rain for the drought-ridden Mr. Potter. He crackles with power, with intent, with moral ambiguity. Draco was the first to make Harry feel … anything since the desert came. Fear, pain, desire, rage – all in one strike. Harry likes the pain, hates the pain, has to return it. Draco struck, and Harry felt deep, cleansing fire, breath-taking, bone-cracking, soul-bruising fire. And he hadn't felt in so long."

Prophet's eyes flashed. "And the lightning strike might set the desert ablaze in all-consuming wildfire." Prophet's smile was chilling. "Harry is a tornado, born of destruction for destruction. He wants to consume Draco in the inferno, to be consumed himself. When they are near, the air smells of pain, heat, desperation. The dry crackle of disaster."

* * *

"Besides, you are a force of nature." Piper watched his as avidly as she watched a violent summer storm. "Lightning strikes randomly."

"But never twice."

"Lightning strikes where it will. Only death never strikes twice." Piper let her hair drift in front of her face, looking up at him coquettishly through a fringe of white.

"And I am lightning?" He asked softly.

"And thunder, and cataclysm – all in a lovely gilded crucible split in two." Piper smiled. "Ask Death, he'll grant you your barren fields, your ocean waves."

Draco stared at her, completely befuddled. She sighed impatiently.

"You are headed for a fall, long and winding and desperate. You've already tumbled, you will be consumed – swallowed whole. Stop worrying and enjoy the ride. You're supposed to be good at that."

"So I should ask … ?" Was this a metaphor?

"Death. He can fix it."

"And how do I do that?" Draco pushed a hand through his hair.

"Offer him his toys back." Piper laughed. "Death is inevitable and all possessing. He doesn't let go easily."

"Even if I knew what you were talking about … I wouldn't know where to begin." Draco wasn't even convinced that Harry and Bane should be put back together. And he certainly wasn't inclined to invite Death into the mix.

"At the start, at 'once upon a time' – with reflections and the beginning of the end." She grinned. "Nevermind ever after – it's never happy."

"Ok, you're just messing with me now, right? There is no way to possibly riddle out a piece of cryptic like that."

Piper leaned forward, turning her head to the side.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just listening to the lingering passersby."

"I thought you said no one was coming …"

"No one who's not supposed to hear," she defended herself. "To find Death, you must want him, must reflect his visage and his door. Ask Miss Muffet." Piper cast suggestive eyes at him. "She's begging for it."

* * *

"What does that mean?" Dumbledore felt a moment of compassion for every student he had ever given a cryptic answer to.

Prophet shrugged, his eyes clearing. "It will either save us all, or destroy everything. Burn it to the ground."

"I see. What shall we do?"

"Oh, nothing." Prophet lifted his cup. "More tea?"

"Nothing?" The word was quiet, but the tone was not.

"There is nothing to do. Harry will do what he must. Draco will strike when he does, the results will be what they will." Prophet helped himself to the tea. "But you needn't worry about what you can or cannot. Harry has no choice. Neither do you."

Dumbledore heaved the sigh he had been holding. He had known that.

"Some people find that thought comforting." Prophet winked at him, but gave no hint as to whether he was continuing his statement, or commenting on Dumbledore's thought.

"And the Hallows?"

"Must and will be surrendered. Harry must reunite with himself if he is to trace his roots. And at the beginning of Harry's roots, is the end of our little story."

"And what about Mr. Black?"

"Bane is the ocean, he has left Harry a desert. He is deep, still, and dangerous. He's Harry's instincts, and natural way of being. He is vital, violent and forceful, yet remains the calm in the eye of the storm. He sees every layer of chaos, he revels in power. He is who Harry would have been without your influence on his life. He sees no darkness to avoid, no light to hold to. He doesn't see in black and white, like Harry does. Just endless grey, like storm clouds." Prophet smirked. "The lightning complements him better, but is no less volatile."

Dumbledore contemplated Draco's role in this strange plight. "And what does Draco see – black and white, or grey?"

"Draco sees in color." Prophet stood and stretched. "Huh. Funny."

"What's that?" Dumbeldore asked, successfully holding the weary out of his voice.

"I thought that the Headmaster's office would be soundproof." Prophet bowed. "Well, then, I bid you good night, Headmaster."

"Goodnight, Prophet."

He was already gone.

**TBC …**


	15. Be Seeing You

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Chapter Title:** Be Seeing You.

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues)

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: _**Mature, R, Adult – rated for language, explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised. Not intended for underage readers. Also features m/m slash – as always, if you made it to this chapter and are offended by such things, I assume you want to be, and you are most welcome – always happy to oblige!!**_

**A/N's: **And then there were three … grin … this chapter introduces one of my favorite character. Is he from Harry Potter? Well, I happen to think he plays a big role in Harry's life, but he's not exactly in the book. Let's just say he's neither original character nor cannon character. You tell me how to classify him …

Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

* * *

Draco entered the hospital wing, quickly spotting the red-haired mediwitch putting away supplies methodically with a flick of her wand. As Ginny turned, her profile by the darkened windows held a wicked air, and Draco could sense a familiar scent in the air – power and desperation.

"Hello Weasley."

"Draco.'' Ginny didn't turn from what she was doing. "How may I help you?"

"Well, I certainly don't need anything as extensive as what you have previously offered the Malfoy family," he drawled smirking.

"If you'd get to the point, please?"

"We need to talk. I think you have information I need." Draco quickly recounted what he had gleaned from Piper's words, ignoring the way Ginny crinkled up her nose at the mention of the new student. "So, what do you think?"

"I think if she calls me 'little Miss Muffet one more time, I'm going to –"

"Focus, Weasley. What are Death's toys, and how do we find him to ask if he wants them back? And how is this going to help our split personality problem?" Draco paced back and forth, electricity snapping in his agitated movements.

"How should I know?" She seated herself on one of the empty cots, closing her eyes and sighing deeply.

"If I'm not mistaken, you've learned a few new tricks since last we saw each other." The doors to the Hospital Ward banged open. In walked Harry and Bane, dressed identically in black clothing and professor's robes with the Black crest on them, a rearing thestral in the middle of a triangle. The wicked glint in Bane's eyes told her who had spoken.

Bane raised his hand, a crackle of power arcing in green sparkle across his fingers. "I can feel it on you, you know. The dry electricity. I can feel it."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny snapped, crossing her arms over his chest.

"You know what he's talking about, Gin," Harry said softly. "I can feel it, too."

"Do you know what you've gotten yourself into? What you're trying to harness will drag you down, drown you in it." Bane walked past the cot as if he was about to start pacing as well. Draco stepped out of his way, eyes narrowing.

Harry moved to stand in front of Ginny, close enough to her bent knees to stop her from standing up. "I saved your life."

"I know, Harry." Ginny swallowed thickly. Harry wasn't quite the hero she had grown up with, and yet, the sense of guilt and defiance he created in her was choking.

"Do you want to help me? Pay me back for saving your life?"

"Of course." The words were bitter but honest.

"Close your eyes, Gin. Think about what we want. What we need," Bane coaxed, his voice soft and caressing.

Her eyes closed of their own volition. Draco's eyes widened as he realized that Bane and Harry were making sure her intentions were aligned with theirs, so they could draw on her power.

"Breathe …" Harry whispered.

Draco focused on Harry, something in his body language calling to mind a coiled serpent in a hypnotizing sway. Without warning, Harry reached out and grasped Ginny's hands at the same time Bane reached out, setting his hands on either side of her skull. His hands slid into her silky hair, fingers pressing into her temples and something similar to lightning seemed to light the room and there was a loud boom of thunder. Black and purple sparks circled around the three of them and Ginny screamed.

"What the bloody hell –" Draco could feel it to. The dark magic that had sometimes tingled around his father, filling the air. He could feel the vortex drawing power from Ginny and swirling it into the room, and wondered if had looked the same when Harry had drawn power from Draco before killing Voldemort. He remembered his first taste of Harry's unique ability.

_"How long have you been able to do that?" Draco stared at him incredulously._

_"Exploit others' powers? Since my mother died," Harry answered with a harsh laugh, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Hey, everyone has a talent. Some people can touch their tongue to their nose . . ."_

Ginny's eyes flew open and they were a deep purple. She abruptly stopped screaming, and began to speak in a whisper hoarse from the sounds that had been ripped from her throat. "The mirror of desire, the veil. The Hallows. Gather the hallows and stand in front of the mirror, looking into the veil. He will come."

Harry and Bane released her and stepped back. Draco fought for breath as the magic began to clear.

"How the hell did you do that?" Ginny snarled, her voice creaking.

"It's a little talent that I always have possessed." Bane smiled darkly. "We took your desire to know the truth and natural need to quest for knowledge and …"

"Used it to our advantage," Harry finished grimly. Draco's eyes bounced between the two of them. Something was off. Since when did they work so well together? Since when was Harry comfortable being in the same room with his counterpart? What had happened in the past few hours to change all of that?

"Deathly Hallows." Harry frowned. "I was hoping for something more helpful."

"The Deathly Hallows?" Draco frowned, something about what had just happened making him distinctly uncomfortable. "But that's a child's story."

"Just like little Miss Muffet." Bane pronounced with satisfaction. "What are the hallows?"

"Three brothers who found a way to cheat Death, himself." Draco racked his brain for the details of the story. "They each had three gifts – an unbeatable wand, the resurrection stone, and the invisibility cloak capable of hiding you from Death."

"I know where the Resurrection Stone is." Ginny's eyes flashed, and she turned an accusing eye on Draco. "So do you."

"I didn't know it was real," Draco protested defensively.

Harry looked at Bane with questioning eyes.

"It's at Malfoy Manor," the blond confirmed the suspicion he read in the green orbs. He added with a wry tone, "The Devil's playground."

"And the cloak?" Ginny asked, a hand rubbing her head as if it was aching. "Harry, you're descended from the brothers who captured the Hallows."

"I am?" Harry looked intrigued. He had never lost his thirst for knowledge of his own ancestry.

"Yes. Masters of death. You're one of them. I saw it." Ginny dragged breaths into her lungs, waiting for the pain in her nerves to dissipate.

"Mortis vincit omnia," Draco intoned ominously. "I guess we know why you're the new head of the House of Black."

"So the Invisibility Cloak, the one that belonged to your father …"

"Could it be that easy?" Harry questioned. Hermione had told him that Invisibility Cloaks never functioned well or lasted long. He felt the truth of it. "I still have it."

"Which just leaves the wand," Bane stated. "And I know where it is."

Harry raised a brow.

"Dumbledore has it." Bane bared his teeth. "Think he'll give it up?"

"He will." Harry set his jaw. "He owes me. I'll get it."

"Are you sure you should be the one?" Bane searched Harry's eyes, an intense look passing between the two of them..

"I'm sure."

"C'mon then, luv." Bane turned to Draco.

"Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes, it's time we paid a visit to your father." Bane crossed his arms over his chest. Draco avoided looking at Harry, he hadn't been sure that Harry knew of Lucius' survival, but there was no reaction.

"Lovely." Draco looked over at Ginny, who was starting to recover. "What about her?"

"She'll be fine," Harry said dimissively. "Some wounds are temporary."

"Some," Ginny confirmed in a harsh whisper, feeling an inner tremble threaten to take her over.

"Ginny, find the mirror, and take it to the Ministry. You know which room," Harry instructed.

"And how do you expect me to break into the Ministry by myself?"

Bane smirked. "Use some of those new tricks you've learned."

Ginny swallowed, wondering how she could feel so powerful and so used at the same time.

* * *

_Rebel Bane Black was a smart man, confident in his abilities, and given to talent and power. Clever, wicked, possessed of a roguish charm, his smile made women and men alike melt. With an anarchical understanding of being above the rules, whose ever they may be, his presence seemed to take up all the air in a room. He gave a deliciously dangerous and damaged bad boy aura as dark as his name. _

Bane gave a grim shake of his head. The words Rowena had written about him always seemed to stick in his head, just like her nose tended to stick in his business. He loved her, they had been the closest of friends, but the stinging sense of betrayal had carried with him, his only company as he remained concealed in the ironic prison she had cast him into. Now, here he was, centuries later, free and strong again, and her voice still seemed to haunt him.

He stretched lazily, eyes on the thestrals now returning to their home on top of the castle. Bane needed a place to stay, and while the castle called to him – the school he had never seen completed, the dream denied him – he knew instinctively that he would find no friends there.

With a determined set to his jaw, he reached for his magic, searching a likely ally. A familiar flash of red hair crossed his vision and an emotional tug began to pull at him like a homing beacon. He moved forward, walking with his head down and his hands clasped behind his back. He could see where he was going in his mind's eyes. He navigated the woods as if he had created them, his mind focused on his destination and not his journey. The animals in the forest paused to watch him pass, dread and calamity trailing in his wake.

Removing the Resurrection Stone from Lucius' possession had been far easier than Draco would have thought. Bane strolled into Lucius' private chambers as if he owned Malfoy Manor, and for all the resistance Lucius offered, he might as well have.

"Lucius," Bane said, nodding in greeting. A swirl of his wand uncovered a glass case, heavily secured and full of dark objects, behind a portion of bookcase.

"Bane." But for the greeting, Lucius watched silently, not bothering to stop them, though he didn't offer to remove the wards. With a wave of his fingers, Bane had vanished every ward. The stone had practically leapt into Bane's hand, as if it knew that it belonged to him.

Bane stood, holding the stone in the palm of his hand.

"That all you need?" Lucius asked mildly.

"Yes." Bane flashed a feral grin. "Be seeing you." And he left, Draco trailing behind him and ignoring the knowing expression on his father's face. Draco could feel irritation filling his chest, along with some dreadful certainty that something was wrong with the world at this moment.

Draco walked beside Bane through a long corridor in Malfoy Manor. He glanced sideways at the dark haired man as they moved. Draco's skin still tingled with the dark magic that Bane and Harry had drawn through Ginny to get the answers they needed. Draco was fiercely aware of the dark object that Bane carried in his left hand.

"I know you're tempted," Draco said finally.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Bane did not look at him.

"Do you know what happens when a pawn crosses all the way to the other side of the board unchallenged, Black?" Draco asked.

Bane flipped the Resurrection Stone over in his palm, softly running a thumb over the markings on it. His voice was haunted as he spoke. "You can bring back any piece you wish."

"Who are you thinking about bringing back?"

"Resurrection is a little darker than even I can go," Bane said. The statement seemed odd coming from him, but Draco dismissed it. Odd was becoming normal.

"I don't believe that. Not after what you just did to Ginny." Draco crossed his arms over his chest as he walked.

Bane laughed a little. "And what did I do? Nothing that I hadn't already done to you."

"I beg to disagree."

Bane smirked. "Beg all you want, Malfoy."

"You drew power from me. You didn't push dark magic through me." Draco shuddered. The concept seemed to violate in the most exquisitely intimate way.

Bane gave another harsh laugh. "That dark magic didn't come from me." He met Draco's confused eyes, with an almost pitying look. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

"It came from her. All of it." Bane's eyes flashed. "Ginny's been a very busy girl."

"You've picked up a few new tricks yourself," Draco drawled.

"And you object?"

"Something like that."

Bane stopped, shoving Draco against the wall of corridor and pushing his forearm into the blonde's throat. "It doesn't really matter to you. I have the power. That's why you're with me."

"You once said that I wanted you because you were a symbol of the light. Still think that's what you are?" Draco gasped out, a wicked gleam in his eye. "Still consider yourself a hero?"

"What would you know about being a hero? Unless spending your whole life trying to stand near them passes for experience," Bane bit out.

"I'm the only one in the world _willing_ to stand next to you," Draco pointed out. Angry at the way Harry ignored him, and Bane taunted him, Draco was more than looking for a fight. "You even scare Dumbledore."

A dark look flashed over Bane's face and his hands dropped from Draco's shoulders. "Go to hell, Malfoy."

"Oh, poor little golden boy, still seeking daddy's approval," Draco snarled. "Too bad, your real father's dead. Though, I suppose there is a way." Draco looked pointedly at the stone in Bane's hand. "Why don't you bring him back and see how he feels about what you've become. Think he'll be afraid of you, too?"

"Like you're one to lecture me on healthy father-son relationships?" Harry growled back. "At least I have an excuse for lacking a positive father figure. My father's dead. For all the attention he pays you, yours might as well be. My mother died for me. Your mother died to get away from you."

Draco nearly gasped at the sharp throb the thought sent through him. His mother's suicide was something he never thought about it, but always felt. "That gives us something in common then, doesn't it? We're both responsible for our mother's death."

"Let's face it, Malfoy. No matter which team you're playing for, you're not part of the light either. Moral ambiguity is in your genes." Bane crossed his arms over his chest. "Survival's all you care about, and that's why you're willing to stand next to me."

"Standing next to you is counterproductive to survival," Draco pointed out. "You haven't made a good decision in so long, both sides are gunning for you."

"Yeah." Bane laughed. "Too bad neither one of them can touch me. But then, like I said, that's why you're trying so hard to stay close to me."

"I thought we were friends," Draco whispered.

"Did you?" Bane stepped forward again, curling his fingers around Draco's neck and feeling his pulse speed up. "I had the impression we were distinctly not friends."

"Why are you so angry that I'm here, Bane? I thought you wanted me here." Draco searched his eyes. There was something off about Bane. His usually silky manner was now harsh and abrupt. He seemed bitter that Draco was with him, when before he had seemed to revel in the triumph over Harry. "What's the matter? Done with me, are you?"

"I'm never done with you," Bane whispered, a hint of despair in his eyes. He leaned close, brushing his lips over Draco's. "I hate you. I despise you, everything you were brought up to be, everything you ever represented. And yet …"

Bane kissed Draco deeply, tangling his free hand in his hair. Draco gasped as Bane pushed up against him. This kiss felt different, felt more rough, more real, and called to mind the sting of steel at his neck. Draco opened his eyes, mind flooding with realization. He broke off and stared at Bane.

"You're not, are you? You're not done with me." Draco panted, a smirk appearing. "And there's something else you're not, too."

Bane settled back on his left heel, cocking his head to the side with a rueful smile. He casually rolled his shoulders. "Well, figured it out, have you?"

* * *

Neville finished his report and stood silently in front of Dumbledore's desk. "I don't know where they are now, sir, but I am certain they will be gathering the items in the near future."

"And this concerns you, Neville?" Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"I cannot guarantee that his purposes are benign. Or that they can remain so once in possession of such power." Neville shook his head. "Sir, do you want me to – complete my mission, now?"

"Not yet, Neville. I haven't given up yet." There was a sharp knock at the door. "Enter."

Harry walked in through the door, starting as he realized that the Headmaster had a guest. "Oh, hello, Neville. I didn't realize you were in here. Didn't mean to interrupt anything … important."

"Not at all, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. "Please come in."

Harry stepped further into the room. "If you're certain."

Dumbledore met Neville's questioning look. "_Mr. Potter_ and I will be a little bit, Neville. Please close the door behind you."

Neville nodded once at Dumbledore and once at Harry, then quit the room. Harry watched him leave before turning to face the Headmaster.

"So, what were you two discussing?" Harry asked, his tone no less dangerous for its softness.

"Nothing of consequence," Dumbledore replied warily. "I know why you're here, Harry."

"Do you?" Harry stood, muscles relaxed, arms loose at his side.

"I do." Dumbeldore stared steadily at him. He tried to read Harry's thoughts, but Harry had become quite adept at occlumency blocking in the past few years. "But the wand is a very powerful object. I feel that it would be best left in my possession until you are ready to relinquish it to its … rightful owner, so to speak."

"I see." Harry angled his head and cracked his neck.

"I am glad it is you, and not your counterpart that came to retrieve it." Dumbledore stepped away from his desk to stare out the window. "I believe the other you is the portion of yourself that does not trust me. I am sorry for giving you reason to feel that way. I hope you know, that I always tried to do what I felt was best, what had to be done."

"I understand the sacrifices necessary in War, sir," Harry said quietly.

"I know you do, Harry. I must apologize for that. The sacrifice has so often been yours. If you only knew how much I wished it could have been me."

"I'm glad you feel that way."

Pain exploded in Dumbledore's head, and before he could register where the attack had come from, he found himself in a full body bind on the floor. When his eyes hazily focused on Harry, the young man already had possession of the Elder Wand.

"That's the problem with Wizards," Harry mused. "They'd rather use magic than get their hands dirty. I don't have that compunction." He seemed to think it over. "I'm not sure I have any compunctions."

"Harry?" Dumbeldore croaked, a note of horror in his voice.

The dark haired man offered him a lethal smile, twirling the wand in his fingers.

"Bane …" Dumbledore realized, too late.

"By the way, thanks for introducing me to occlumency. It's ever so helpful." And he was gone.

* * *

"Hello, Harry." Draco stared at him. How had it taken him this long to figure out that Harry and Bane had switched places? That was why there had been that strange tension over who went to get the Elder Wand. They had sent Bane. "When did you switch places? Before you found me and Ginny in the Hospital Wing?"

"Well, aren't you clever?" Harry felt an inner flush. He had justified kissing Draco, figuring that Bane probably did it. Something he would not have allowed himself to do. Touching Draco was too . . . risky. "Miss me?"

"Something like that. Kind of figured you hated me."

"Always have." Harry shook his head. Even now, his body was rigid with tension, with resisting temptation. "Always will."

"There's more between us then that, Potter. You revel in being with me." Draco shook his head to stop Harry's protest. "Like it or not, Bane is you, and you are tempted by me."

"Am I?"

Draco leaned forward, cupped a hand behind Harry's head and kissed him. Harry hissed, heat rising through him. He forcefully shoved Draco away from him, gasping for breath. Draco snarled up at him, "You don't fool me, Potter. You never have."

Harry said nothing.

Draco smiled. "If both halves of you want me, I will have you once you're rejoined. Bet on it."

Harry felt his muscles tighten involuntarily to the husky promise in Draco's voice. Temptation incarnate of every sinful, carnal desire he had ever had beckoned him forward. But Harry knew right from wrong. He could resist. Once he was rejoined with Bane, would Harry still be able to? Would he betray himself?

"I take it that's what you want." Harry swallowed, the promise of surrender blossoming in Draco's grey eyes. It seemed inevitable.

"I want you," Draco said softly, in a low tone that made Harry shiver. "I know what you want from me. At least with me, you feel something."

"Giving in to you might break me," Harry confessed, stunned at his own honesty.

"Hard to break what's already broken," Draco said softly, sadness in his eyes.

"Be that as it is, I'm sure you'll try your best," Harry returned wryly.

"As you wish, Potter," Draco promised. "Let's get you put back together. Then you and I are going to have a talk."

Harry turned and began to walk again, Draco easily keeping pace beside him. "Looking forward to it."

"I'm sure you are." Draco smirked. "So, do you think Bane will give up the Elder Wand?"

Harry stared down at the Resurrection Stone. "We all do what we must."

* * *

Harry and Bane stared into the Mirror of Erised, holding the Deathly Hallows. Draco stood mulishly behind them, his face the picture of anxious frustration. Ginny trembled a little beside him. She felt as if she had spent the past week in a drinking binge, a desperate low from the insane high of having Harry and Bane touch her and complete a surge a black magic through her body.

"Harry, you and Bane need to hold the objects together," Ginny instructed.

Staring relentlessly at each other, they arranged the three objects so both their hands touched each. Harry swallowed. Bane, the embodiment of the self he had darkly desired to be, a man without compunction, who gave in to temptation for the lack of reason not to, who had the daring and the audacity to use each of these items – items Harry had to confess, were the hardest things he could imagine having to give up. The cloak, his only tangible link to his father, the stone that could bring back his parents, Sirius, and Ron. The wand that would prevent them from ever being taken from him again. He was going to give them all up, for what? What would he become once he was one person again? The same brand of turmoil churned in Bane's eyes.

"Ready there?" Draco inquired, a certain impatience in his stance. Bane read the nervousness in the posture, and Harry felt Draco's anticipation of their promised talk later. He shivered, swallowed, then removed a flask from under his robes. He took a long swallow of firewhiskey and passed it to his other self. Bane gratefully swallowed.

"Ready," they said together. Draco stepped forward and snatched the flash away from Bane.

"Ready," he said before swallowing a healthy amount.

Ginny nodded and it began. Resolutely they all stood with their backs to the Veil that separated life and death and examined their respective heart's desire with grim understanding. When they had each faced their personal demons, they seemed to come to a silent consensus to focus now on what the group wanted. Without a word, the four joined hands and bowed their heads, power swirling around them. When they looked up, five people were reflected in the mirror.

Ginny, Draco and three men who looked like Harry Potter.

"Great. Now's there three of them." Draco crossed his arms over his chest, not seeing the fear and longing grow in Ginny's eyes. He noticed it when she backed away. He snapped at her, "What?"

_"That's not me,"_ Harry and Bane said as one, both pointing at the boy who had appeared soundlessly in their midst.

He wore a black velvet hooded cloak that cupped his angled face like a mother's hand. Unruly black hair framed his face and just under it, a scar flashed as he turned his head. He clutched an ebony wand in his hand. But there was disaster in his eyes, destruction in his easy smile. He looked like Harry Potter. _But he was not._

"Hello. Were you looking for me?" This Harry seemed to be about sixteen years old. He tilted his head to one side while he regarded them all calmly.

"Who *are* you?" There was horror in Ginny's question.

"I am Death." The fake Harry threw his hood back and swept a low bow. "And if you have in your little hands what I think you do – I am humbly at your service."

Death straightened and turned to Draco. He bowed his head, mischief sparkling in his smile. "Well, hello Draco. Nice to see you again."

Draco felt like he was suffocating as he looked into Death's eyes. The irises were completely black, indistinguishable from the pupils if they existed. There was catastrophe and inevitability there, swirling with a calm frightening in its depth and permanency. "Hello."

Death smirked, turning back to the two Harry's. "Quite the tangle you've gotten yourself into, Harry."

"Can you – " Harry broke off. His heart was pounding fiercely in his chest, he felt entranced by the power surrounding the cloaked figure in front of him. Occasionally the cloak shifted as if stroked by an ethereal breeze that made no sound. And yet, there was a dark air of temptation that took Harry's breath and reminded him of the dizzying buzz of falling in love. He lost sight and sense of Bane, and was completely transfixed with the figure before him. "Can you fix it?"

"Yes, I can fix _you._" Death answered, amusement honeying his voice. He stepped forward and cupped Harry's chin in his hands, stroking the tip of his thumb over Harry's lips. Harry could distinctly feel the bone beneath the bloodless flesh, a sensation that made his skin crawl with the absolute certainty that what was touching him was not human, not mortal. "But nothing's free."

Harry swallowed thickly, jerking back out of his grip, idly noting the tick in Draco's clenched jaw as their eyes met for an instant. "I would think you've taken enough from me."

"Oh, Harry, I'm wounded," Death mocked. "You couldn't possibly be holding a grudge against me, could you? I have done nothing to you."

Harry closed his mouth.

"I see. You regret all that pain, loss and violence that first brought us together. I am part of all that," Death said softly, his eyes not unkind, not emotional in any way. "But it's not personal. I am certainty, I am eventuality. I am the end. The Omega. I will come for _everyone_ you love in time." Death stepped closer to Harry, but Harry could back up no further, his back was inches away from the barrier of the Veil. Harry could feel Death's chill breath on his face, but there was no scent. "And I promise you this, my sweet. I will come for _you_."

Harry shivered, but steadfastly ignored the sensation. He refused to analyze the deep connection he felt to this entity, the strange attachment he couldn't … didn't want to explain. He spoke as if they were alone in the room. "You talk like you know me. Like we're … _close._"

"I know you, Harry." Death touched Harry's chin, his fingertip brushing Harry's lower lip. "We are close." His hand dropped away. "Forgive me," Death bowed his head slightly, a dark smile on his face. "But I'm somewhat of an admirer of yours. I've walked in your wake dozens of times. You put a raw beauty into ruthless destruction."

Harry started. "You've walked … with me?"

"Face it, Harry. We're old friends now. All of the times I've been able to touch your life, to witness the lethal artistry, the intimacy you bring to killing." Death smirked, hissing out his words. "The times you've invited me to watch …"

Death spoke as someone who existed regardless of time should, slow and easy, like a muddy river speckled with driftwood. "Now, I believe you have something of mine."

Harry looked down at his hands, the items he held. His fingers seemed to catch in the fabric of the Cloak, and he thought of his father. "Yes."

"Give them to me," Death said, his voice coated in insidious demand.

"No." Harry boldly met Death's eyes, ignoring the shiver down his spine, trying not to focus on his own perilous proximity to the Veil. "Not yet."

"Do you think you have the power to keep what's mine?" Death challenged, looking strangely pleased. "I always loved the way you try to defy my will. You're beautiful when you're angry."

Draco found himself agreeing. Therein lay the allure to Harry Potter. The fury in the fight, the exquisiteness of his despair. The way pain and anger lit him up inside, made him shine. The grief that tipped his bitterness, the reckless bite that put a razor edge on his cunning, on his ability, his dogged determination to survive carved him into a sleek predator. His quietly crazed thirst for revenge, his pleasure and satisfaction in vengeance, his hatred of himself for both etched him into a destructive force of nature.

It was impossible for Harry to resist his impulses, to counteract his instincts, to stop his savor of the hunt, the wild revel he felt in the kill – it was his nature. And yet, he so desperately wanted to. What was wrong with Draco that he found such twisted conflict enticing?

"Tell me why this happened to me," Harry demanded. Draco looked up sharply, not realizing that Harry wanted more than to be back to normal. The odd light in Harry's eyes when he looked at Death was deeply disturbing. There was a cloying fascination that scared Draco. He hadn't realized how strong Harry's death wish was.

"Does it really matter?" Death caught Draco's eye and gave him a wink, and the former Prince of Slytherin looked away. "Does it matter when I can so easily undo what was done?"

Harry frowned. "If it doesn't matter to you, then why not tell me?"

Death looked amused and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why should I?"

Ginny had been silent since she realized what exactly had joined them. She too had felt the strange mix of attraction and revulsion Death carried, and it had stolen her breath. Now she managed to find her voice, just wanting his undivided attention once. "He deserves to know."

"Oh, hello, little Red." Death turned his attention on her, the weight of it like falling through the ice in the winter. "Look at you, aren't you all dark and shiny?"

Ginny wet her lips, her mouth instantly dry.

"You smell like power, it's nice." Death approached her and it took everything in her power to remain where she was. She met his eyes, images of Tom, and then Lucius flashing before her eyes. She looked out into the Forbidden Forest, gasping sharply.

Death leaned close to Ginny, his hair brushing her cheek and sending shivers to her bone marrow as his cool lips grazed her ear. "Careful Red, there are wolves in that forest."

"You're a lot friendlier than I thought you would be," Draco commented wryly, not sure why he felt the urge to protect Ginny, but he really wanted Death to step away from her.

"Of course, I love humans," Death confessed. "I've met all of them, you know. Or will." He smirked. "Eventually."

"Are you going to tell us what we want to know or not?" Draco called, wishing the dread he felt in attracting Death's attention wasn't quite so strong.

Death slowly turned away from Ginny, smiling at Draco in a way that made him want to scream, and grit his teeth to keep it in. "As you wish, Draco."

"A long time ago, there were five friends, bent on betrayal and greatness. And three of them decided to imprison Rebel Bane Black in the body of one of his descendants. They made deals with powers, with nightmares to make it happen. They sacrificed one of their own to condemn another."

Death spread his arms in a careless manner. "I suppose I could have stopped them. But I never like Bane very much anyway."

Harry held perfectly still, his brain feeling like the wheels in a clock clicking into place. "It's me. They imprisoned him in me."

"Yes, and when he was released, it split you in two." Death turned his back on Harry to look into the mirror.

When Harry looked up, Death's physical presence had vanished, but his visage was reflected in the mirror as he hovered in the middle of the Veil. "So, will you put me back together?"

"I already have."

For the first time, Harry and Bane realized they were now the same person, and with that realization the sense of duality, of being two people vanished. There stood Harry Potter, one solid being once more, scar resolutely in place on his forehead. And he had been so wrapped up in Death, he hadn't noticed his own completion. "Holy hell."

"I should be going." Death stepped closer to Harry, reaching a hand through the mirror that Harry swore he could feel tickling against his back. "Unless you're still going to ask me for those other things you want."

"I don't know what you mean," Harry said stiffly. Draco and Ginny both gasped. In the mirror appeared a half dozen figures. Ron, Sirius, Remus, James and Lily Potter, Cedric Diggory, Hagrid, Mad Eye Moody. Harry choked. "I've already given you back the stone."

"Bringing them back isn't the only way to be reunited Harry." Death smiled deeply. "You're welcome to come with me now."

"Your offer is …" Harry swallowed. Terrifyingly tempting? "Kind, but I can't do that."

"Regret suits you, Harry. Till we meet again, then." Death smirked, holding in his hands the instruments he had longed to take back for so long. Then he looked over at Draco and winked at him. "Be seeing you …"

And Death was gone.


	16. Witty Repartee

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Chapter Title:** Witty Repartee

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues)

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: _**Mature, R, Adult – rated for language, explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised. Not intended for underage readers.**_

**A/N's: Please review? Pretty please? Pretty, pretty, pretty please?**

Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

* * *

Harry rolled his shoulders, a feral grin spreading across his face as he cracked his neck. He could feel his scarred psyche shuffling back together like a deck of cards, combining memories, emotions, experiences and the destiny of his own genetics back into a single being. He was himself again. He felt a momentary twinge of disgust for both of his former selves, but he dismissed it. He had no time for such useless emotions. Disgust, revulsion, regret at one's own actions were luxuries he hadn't bothered to consider in many years.

Draco stared at Harry. Almost without thought, his hand lifted and he brushed a lock of dark hair off Harry's forehead, revealing the scar, back in place.

Ginny gasped.

"Hands off, Malfoy," Harry snarled, knocking his hand away.

"Well, there's a turn around from last night." Draco smirked. "Have it your way, Potter."

"I always do." Harry pulled his wand, and with a crack, Apparated out of the room.

Ginny swallowed, still staring at the veil. "He's gone."

"He was only half here to begin with." Draco snorted. "Oh, you mean Death." Draco smiled grimly. "Don't worry, Weasley. I'm certain he'll be back."

"What's wrong with me?" Ginny whispered, sinking to the grounds beside the veil.

"I don't have the kind of time required to respond to that question." Draco crossed his arms over his chest.

"Do you think he's in there, somewhere?" Ginny barely seemed to register Draco's words or presence, talking almost to herself.

"Death? Well, as that's where he came from, and where he vanished to, one would assume he's in there somewhere. I don't think he's got a summer cottage in there or anything, but …"

"Tom."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "Still mourning that old nightmare?"

Ginny bit her lip, and continued staring through the veil, watching the shapes shift in the mist. She lifted a hand as if to trace them.

"You want to know what's wrong with you?" Draco stepped back from the veil, some survival instinct in him desiring distance. "You let the darkness in. You embraced the invasion. Tom didn't take you over, you gave yourself up to him in a moment of weakness. When you make a deal with the devil, you should expect to lose your soul."

Ginny shivered. Draco stepped closer to her grimly, grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet. "And you let my father get his claws into you."

Ginny met his eyes suddenly, as if just then connecting to Draco's presence. "I invited him in, too."

"No, you didn't. Not your fault though, Malfoy's rarely wait for invitations." Draco searched her eyes, finding what he was looking for. "Did he offer you something to drink?" He found the confirmation in her face. "He infected you with dark magic, like a muggle vaccine. Opened you up to dark magic, numbing you to the loss of your innocence. That's why I was able to get to you that night. And he's been feeding it to you ever since."

"I haven't been innocent in a long time." Ginny twisted out from under his hands.

"You're addicted to the dark magic now. And you're not even fighting it much." Draco watched her staring longingly at the veil. "You've given up. You don't have that fierce hunger for power that sustains our venerable Mr. Potter through the dark. You want more than anything to step through that veil."

"Maybe." Inside, Ginny was at war with herself. If what Draco had said was true, then she was tainted. She might as well give herself to Death, as she had given herself to Lucius, given herself to Tom. Stop the pattern from repeating. But the new power that accompanied the darkness was screaming that she could fight, she could survive. She could let go of who she was and become somebody new, somebody that no one could take advantage of anymore. Time to stop giving and start taking – and who cares if taking felt wrong? It also felt _good._

Draco sneered in disgust, stepping behind her to look over her shoulder. "You are what you are. Accept it or take a few more steps forward. I really don't care either way."

Ginny tilted her head, considering her choice.

"Don't stand on precipices if you're not prepared to jump." Draco shoved her viciously forward.

"No!!" Ginny pushed herself to the side at the last minute, hitting her temple sharply on the metal frame of the veil. Her magic pushed back, sending Draco across the floor. She lay gasping on the floor, holding her head, but still alive.

He looked up at her, wiping blood from his lip. "Guess you made your decision then."

"Fuck you." And Ginny was gone.

Draco didn't even flinch when Ginny Apparated away. He raised himself to his knees, staring up into the mirror reflecting the veil, but all he saw was himself, kneeling there, staring back at him. He sighed. And then his reflection winked at him, sending a frisson of fear through his body.

"It's you again, isn't it?" He asked, his voice sounding hollow in the echoing room.

"Told you I'd be seeing you." Death smiled and stretched, before settling back into matching form with Draco.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, so cold. You're speaking to me as if I'm a stranger. When I know you so well." Death gave him a mock wounded look. "What's the matter, Draco?"

"You know me?"

"You wear grief as beautifully as your mother did, Draco. I had thought Narcissa was the loveliest human I had seen in quite some time, but you in pain … it's excruciating and exquisite." At his mother's name, Draco had jumped to his feet, rage beneath his eyes. Death looked him over. "Perhaps because you show such naked emotion so rarely."

"Is there a point to this inane prattle, or are you just bored? Death of Voldemort alleviate your workload, did it?" Draco turned his back on the creature, wondering how Harry had been able to stand it, seeing this immortal creature where his own visage. Nothing had ever made him feel so small.

"Quite. Harry's little hiatus did a good portion, too." Death grinned. "But I'm not exactly taking a coffee break here."

"Then leave." Draco shuddered. A bony hand grasped his shoulder and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. He had never heard a whisper of movement.

"I meant, I'm here on business," Death whispered in his ear.

"Am I … going to die?" Draco asked.

"Yes."

Draco fell to the floor, his legs collapsing underneath him, dragging an icy breath into his lungs.

"Don't be upset, young Malfoy." Death looked down at him for a second before sprawling next to him casually. "Everyone dies."

"When? Now?"

"Not now." Death propped an elbow on his knee and perched his chin on the back of his hands. "Maybe not ever."

"What?"

"Are you interested?" Death stared at him. "It's a simple proposition."

"Wait – how long do I have?"

Death smiled crookedly. "An answer no man can know. But it will happen Draco. Someday. Tomorrow. The day after. Ten years from now. Fifty. You want to live right now?"

"Yes," Draco whispered fiercely.

"How many years do you think it will take that to change?"

**

* * *

**

"Along came a spider!" Hermione sat straight up in bed, chest heaving. She brought a shaking hand to her clammy forehead.

"What? What is it?" Severus sat up, his voice hushed and intense, the voice of a man who was used to waking up in danger, and thus instinctively cautious.

Hermione shook her head, her hair twirling about her shoulders. She climbed to her feet and stumbled towards the window, looking out across the Hogwarts' grounds as had become her custom. Severus appeared behind her, pressing a glass of water into her hand. She clutched it gratefully, pressing her forehead against the cool glass of the window.

"Another dream?"

"Yes," she whispered bitterly. "I hate this. This shouldn't be me. The words don't make sense, the images are insane. It's emotional and illogical and awful … and yet, I know it's true." She raised her hand to her heart, thumping her fist against it emphatically. "I _know_ it's true in here. I can't deny it."

"I know this is difficult, but you've been through a lot worse than this," he reminded her gently.

Hermione gave him a wan smile. "Yes, but at least all of that made sense. Voldemort was crazy – prejudiced and crazy. He had a purpose, a reason. What is the purpose of this … this …"

"Gift?"

"Gift." She snorted. "Why is this happening to me? Why go through everything I have gone through, depending on my wits alone, and then develop this disability … this thing that makes me feel crazy. Like I can't trust my own brain."

"Does it occur to you that not many people could have made it through everything you did on their wits alone?" He asked, pulling her away from the window by her shoulders and steering her towards one of the overstuffed armchairs.

His touch was soothing and she leaned into, reflecting for a moment of how much had changed since she had been a student in his first year's potions class. "Thanks for the compliment, but I know I'm clever, Severus." She sighed.

"That's not exactly what I meant. I meant you're not clever – "

"Thanks a lot! You really know how to comfort a woman."

"Just listen," he remarked impatiently, the tone of authority in his voice. "You were always smart, great at tests, at finding answers. Did it ever occur to you that you might have some kind of advantage?"

"Like what?" She demanded imperiously. Severus hid a smile, the strength of his affection for this woman and all of her mannerisms regularly stole his breath, choked his speech and made his heart race. She was stronger than any potion he had ever made, affected him more than his dark magic addiction had.

"You knew where the answers were before you started to look for them. Knew what information would be relevant before you read it or heard it. Does it ever occur to you that you always have the right information for the situation because somewhere inside you knew what the situation would be?"

"That's ludicrous, Severus." Hermione frowned, sipping the water. "How could I possibly know that?"

"Because you had hidden Divination powers," Severus explained patiently.

Hermione started, staring at him and blinking rapidly.

Severus leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and staring back at her in a satisfied way, as if to say, 'What? I'm just saying …'

"You really think so?"

"Our destiny isn't always what we thought it would be. Particularly after we're young." His eyes took on an intent quality. "When important things happen to us when we're young, and we live through them, we tend to think that's it, that nothing could be more important than this."

"And?" Hermione looked down at her hands in her lap.

"We didn't realize we'd live long enough to be wrong."

* * *

Draco Apparated into Harry's personal sitting room off the Slytherin Common Room to find Harry standing in the middle of it, but pointed towards the door.

"Not so fast, Potter. You and I are going to have a little chat," Draco drawled.

"No," Harry replied shortly.

"Back to your captivatingly monosyllabic self, I see." Draco sighed, dropping on to a chair in front of Harry gracefully. "That's why I hang around you, you realize. The witty repartee."

Harry stood still, crossing his arms over his chest and stared at Draco. "Leave."

"You first, Potter. I'm not keeping you from the door," Draco returned dismissively. "I have every confidence that you'll be back."

"Is that so? Why would I come back here?" Harry asked.

"Because your stuff is still here." Draco smirked pointedly.

"You're the only person I know who could smirk in a self-deprecating way."

"It's a gift."

"Why do you hang around me, Malfoy?" Harry's eyes narrowed.

Draco snorted. "Thought you knew. The world revolves around you, Potter. What other choice do I have?"

Harry fell silent.

Draco shook his head, then pointed to where Harry's meager belongings were gathered together in a battered old trunk. "So I take it you'll be moving to Black Tower. I'm sure that's going to work out well."

"What? You're going to miss me?" Harry swayed on his feet as he turned and headed towards the bar he seemed to have ordered for himself. Draco watched him knock the shot glass over and pick up an entire bottle of firewhiskey instead. He uncorked it with his teeth and spit it into the fireplace. Draco realized that Harry Potter was drunk, very, very drunk.

"You hide it well, old boy. But you really shouldn't drink alone."

Harry sniffed, taking a long swig of the bottle. "Hard not to. Most of my drinking buddies are dead."

"Did you kill them?" Draco snorted.

"Most of them." Harry's eyes flashed. "I really don't play well with others."

Draco laughed, the sound unpleasantly desperate. As he spoke, his tone was careless and doomed. "That's what you've been doing since you left the Chamber? Getting foxed by yourself?"

"You got a point?"

"Rarely, but this one might hold some substance." Draco looked Harry over with appraising eyes. "No sane person would go live in that creepy tower by themselves. Even the students aren't staying there yet. You're going to end up barricaded in there like the slightly crazy and drunk protégé of Mad-Eye you've been trying so desperately to be. It's so like you to cling to whatever pseudo-father you last came in contact with."

"Students will be there soon enough." Harry looked slightly shocked. He decided to hide it in the bottle, but Draco was more than observant. He was very nearly obsessed.

"Think about it. You played the part of the golden boy Dumbledore wanted you to be, and skipping over the line of now dead men that opted for the position, you eventually became what Moody would have wanted you to be, an emotionless, cold-blooded killer, obsessed with vengeance and fighting, lost without a battle, without an enemy. I'll bet you based your entire moral compass on how much you could sacrifice for the _cause_. But in the end, you could never live up to Moody's legacy. You're too much of a survivor to die for what you believe in. So what do you do now, Potter?"

"Touché." Harry swallowed. "You're in rare form tonight, Draco."

"I usually am," Draco drawled ironically, registering Harry saying his name like the warm rumble of thunder in the distance.

"Then again, you always could hit where it hurts. That rub off on you from the other Slytherin prats, or is that genetic defect from dear old dad?" Harry asked.

"Checking up on my family, Potter? Did you run out of disapproving father figures and now you want mine?" Draco shook his head. "No deal, Potter. Yours end up dead."

"And you don't want Lucius dead?" Harry took another long drink of whiskey, savoring the burn, before continuing bluntly, "Even though he used to beat you?"

Draco flinched. Whistling lowly, he summoned his own bottle and took a bracing swallow before he said softly, "That was a low blow. So much for Gryffindors always fighting fair."

"I'm a Black now," Harry said philosophically lifting his bottle to the light. "Maybe it's only the fighting part that matters now."

"Are you a Legilimens, Potter?" Draco asked sharply.

Harry laughed. "Worried that I read your mind, Draco?" Harry mocked.

Draco wished he would go back to calling him 'Malfoy', his name rolled of Harry's tongue like summer honey, and it didn't matter what excruciating things the voice said, as long as it was said to him. Merlin, that was sick. Draco had never shied away from kink, but he had never before pictured himself as masochistic.

"I didn't need to read your mind to know why the spoiled little son of a rich man was so angry all the time." Harry walked, a little more steadily this time, back to the chairs, perching on the arm of the chair opposite Draco's. He set a foot on the arm of Draco's chair, resting his elbow on his knee, and resting his chin in his hands to meet Draco's eyes. Draco's gaze locked with Harry's, but the blonde's eyes were glassy, focused on the past.

Harry smiled cruelly, as he reached out to trace the smudges on Draco's neck, bruises in the shape of Harry's fingers from the night before. "Did you really think you could hide bruises that dark on such fair skin?" Harry whispered. "Maybe you thought we'd think it was from Quidditch."

"You knew," Draco whispered, letting it sink in.

"Why didn't you tell me that he was still alive?" Harry asked, eyes unreadable.

"Tough question, Potter." Draco shrugged, tipping the bottle back again. Their conversation had taken on the weird, halting pattern of drunken indulgence. Draco liked it better that way. "Part of you already knew. Literally."

"Were you afraid I was going to kill him?" Harry asked. "Or that I wouldn't?"

"Would you kill him for me?" Draco thought of the scarves he used to wear in school that Pansy had never let anyone call 'poncey', and the reason he had worn them so often. The hickeys that she had planted over bruises too high on his neck. Draco shook himself.

"Is that a question or a request?" Harry's voice was even and emotionless, but Draco wasn't fooled. When Harry was quiet, he was at his most deadly.

Draco shook his head, not sure he knew himself, not knowing how to answer the question. "I honestly don't know. I honestly didn't know that … the whole school knew …"

"Oh, I'm sure it wasn't the whole school. You put on a good show." Harry tilted his head to the side. "I paid more attention to you than you think. And after a Quidditch match once …"

Draco winced, he didn't have to ask which time by the look on Harry's face.

"I could kill him again for that alone." Harry's voice rang with sincerity and Draco's eyes flashed like lightning. "He's a bastard for putting his hands on you." Harry smiled wanly. "But then, so am I. I certainly understand his compulsion. I guess Lucius and I have something in common."

"You both love to hurt me." Draco sighed.

"Don't know any other way to love," Harry confessed. "Without pain … I can't imagine what that would feel like."

"Numb?" Draco suggested wryly.

"I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all." Harry stared intently at Draco.

Draco put his bottle aside, leaning over the arm of the chair to bring his face close to Harry's. "Do I hurt you, Potter?"

"Yes." Harry turned his face away to finish off his bottle.

"Do you like it?" Draco asked huskily, eyes hooded.

Harry chucked the bottle recklessly over Draco's shoulder, listening to it shatter with satisfaction, making the fire hiss and roar. "Yes."

Draco moved gracefully, shifting and bracing his weight to swing his legs up and over the arm of the chair, thereby positioning himself higher than Harry. He took Harry's chin in his hands, turning his face up to meet his eyes. "Do you want me to hurt you, Potter?"

Harry was on his feet in a second, hauling Draco up and against his chest by the Slytherin's shirt collars. Harry's eyes sparkled wickedly, a brilliant green framed by sooty lashes. He hissed in parseltongue, "_Yessss…_"

Draco shivered and was lost. He couldn't understand the word Potter had said, but he got the message just fine. Harry wanted him. Draco had no idea what he was doing, and frankly he didn't care. He wanted, so he did what any Malfoy would do. He took.

He took Harry's mouth with a savage kiss, feeling the electricity building between them. Draco wrapped his long fingers around Harry's neck, pushing him back towards the bed and toppling him onto it.

"It just occurred to me, Potter, that this is the first time I've had all of you since before Voldemort died," Draco whispered huskily in his ear. Harry drew in a sharp breath

"So certain you're about to have me?" Harry asked, oddly still.

Draco slid his hand down Harry's torso and Harry's abdomen quivered. Draco boldly cupped Harry in his hand, fingers caressing the quickly hardening member. Harry let out a low hiss between his teeth, body arching involuntarily. Draco gathered Harry's wrists together in one hand over his head. "Hold still, Potter."

Harry twisted his hands to test Draco's grip. It was firm, but he could break it if he wanted to. He looked up and his eyes met Draco's. He held still. Very still. Draco's eyes were swirling with undeniable fire and rolling smoke. It was hypnotic. It burned him straight through. The emotions were raw and exposed and strong enough to steal Harry's breath.

Suddenly he remembered the day he had captured Malfoy, how he had left Draco tied to a chair downstairs. Harry had watched for Hedwig out the window, considering how he was going to kill Draco. He had been so close to what he was working for, and Draco was just another pawn for him to move across the board. But something had tugged at him, something had stopped him from what should have been the easiest kill of his life. And it wasn't just Hermione's incredible timing. The conflict that had raged through his mind returned unbidden, but was as clear to him as the feel of Draco's hand on his cock.

_Emotions consumed him like a wild brush fire in The Forbidden Forest. His fingers clenched impulsively. Harry's life was a hurricane and he had made it a point to always stand in the eye of the storm. Moody had taught him well. No matter the torrents of rain or gale force winds of turmoil that surrounded him, he stayed calm and in control. Until now. _

_Malfoy – Draco ignited emotions inside him, rage, frustration, hate, and desire. Harry was made of ice, and Draco was like heat lightning. When he looked into Draco's stormy eyes, he no longer wanted to be in the eye of the tempest. He wanted to step into the middle of the maelstrom, tip his head back and laugh as the power of it consumed him. Of course, Harry did dangerous, slightly reckless things every day. He walked on the edge. Nothing scared Harry anymore. Until now. _

Harry shuddered as Draco's lips trailed over his neck, jerking him sharply back into the present and forcing him to think beyond the powerful haze of pleasure that had fogged his brain. Draco's nimble fingers undid Harry's pants and closed around his naked flesh. Harry felt the fear race through him again. He had felt nothing for so long, nothing but dull pain and anger and even that had started to fade. He grew increasingly numb. To have that mixed with something else – fear, desire, both – was a newly intoxicating drug to an addict with too high of a tolerance. He opened his mouth, but whether he was actually capable of speech, or whether he was simply opening his mouth in pleasure, not even Harry knew.

"Shhh … Harry." Draco whispered softly to him, his lips ghosting down Harry's shoulder. "This feels good, right?"

Harry nodded silently, closing his eyes as Draco's fine blonde hair brushed his face. He tried to tell himself that he was drunk, that none of this meant anything, mattered at all … but Harry was not good at lying to himself. He never had been. His life seemed to have beaten denial out of him.

"Then just lay there and take it. Have something that feels good for a moment." Draco stroked harder, his face hovering over Harry's. "Open your eyes."

Harry opened them, taking in Draco's face as another crashing wave of pleasure rolled through him. He remained silent, his breathing becoming labored, for all he tried to force it to be even.

"Look at me. I want to know that you can't deny where you are, what you're doing," Draco whispered urgently. "_Feel me_."

"I do," Harry breathed, his gaze locked on Draco's stormy eyes. "I always have."

"Does this hurt good enough, Harry?" Draco asked, the intensity of the moment roughening his silky voice.

"_Yessss … Draco, yesss …_" Harry hissed. And then, looking into Draco's eyes, feeling the pleasure pulse and gather, he knew what was coming. He surrendered and came apart in his rival's arm, calling his name.

Draco smiled in satisfaction.

* * *

"Hey there, little red riding hood," Bane purred, standing in the doorway of one of the parlor rooms of Malfoy Manor, where Ginny awaited Lucius. "Miss me?"

"Who are you?" Ginny was getting tired of asking dark haired boys this question. "How did you get in here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Bane looked up at her through a fringe of sooty lashes.

"You're him. The real Bane Black." She raised a hand to her throat.

"You know me? How delightful." The man had a smile like a hungry lion. "Did you know that you are absolutely dipped in dark magic? I have to admit." He settled himself on the arm of her chair. "It's a little intoxicating. I can see why Lucius keeps you around."

"Lucius did this to me." Ginny ran her hand through her newly dark hair. After leaving the Department of Mysteries, Ginny had run straight to Lucius, craving for her fix. The result of which had been powerful enough to turn her hair and eyes black. Her eyes had since returned to their normal color, though they remained dilated like she was high.

"Did he?" Bane looked her over. "Could have fooled me. You don't seem much like the victim type." He met her eyes, reading something there. "Any more."

"What do you want?" She asked sharply.

Bane smiled and she swallowed hard. It was the same sun-bright smile that Harry had given her on the Quidditch pitch once. "What's your name, Red?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," he answered intently, with a solemn nod to his head.

"Ginerva Weasley." Her name sounded strange to her.

"So who isn't the *real* Bane Black?" He purred, perching on the arm of her chair.

"Excuse me?" Ginny thought she might be in shock. Here she was, alone in MalfoyManor, talking to a man who was supposed to have been dead for more than a thousand years. It seemed like the most unlikely situation ever.

"You said I was the 'real Bane Black', implying that you had encountered one who wasn't real."

"I just meant Harry."

"Harry?" Bane smiled again, but this time she caught the deceptive twist in the corner of his mouth. "Tell me about Harry."

"Why do you want to know?" She asked suspiciously. "And how did you get in here?"

"Lucius is an old friend."

"That's hardly a ringing endorsement," she commented.

Bane snickered. "I think Harry has something that belongs to me."

"I doubt it. He's not really much in the way of worldly possessions." Ginny folded her arms over her chest. On some level, she realized that she should be frightened of the wizard before her. While they didn't know his whole story, what they did know was less than reassuring. She had every reason to believe that he was a crazy, power-hungry dark wizard bent on world domination. For all she knew, Bane was seconds away from growing a snake face and sabotaging Tri-Wizard Tournaments. Yet, she felt oddly comfortable with him.

"Perhaps it's the company you keep that eases your discomfort with me." Bane studied his nails for a minute, before flashing another rakish grin at her through his sooty lashes.

Well, he was certainly more handsome than Voldemort in his snake phase. Ginny felt a delicious tickle down her spine as she realized that he could read her thoughts, and the vulnerability that presented. "Neat trick."

"I had thought you might be a little more intimidated," he confessed. More charming than Tom, too. Tom never quite mastered the emotional control needed for charm. His crazy leaked out too much.

"Guess you'll have to try a little harder." She smirked. Her mind was racing. She had no idea how to get away from Bane, couldn't find her way through Malfoy Manor well enough to escape. And where would she go from there?

Bane smirked. "Not too much harder though, little Red."

"What are you looking for?" She asked.

"This." He touched his fingers to her temple, and the image rose unbidden in her mind. An ebony wand, gleaming in moonlight. She could feel the dark magic in her stirring again, and she swallowed it down. "So, what do you think, Red? Can you get it for me?"

"Maybe," she answered shrewdly. "What can you give me in return?"

Bane let his hand slide back further into her hair, bringing his other hand up to cradle her skull. He smiled. "Care for a taste?"

She wet her lips and nodded. He lowered his mouth to hers, whispering some Latin incantation. As his tongue traced her lips, black sparks tingled through her body, tracers of dark magic. It lit her nerves on fire, burned like whiskey and was over too quickly. Ginny panted, staring at him with hungry eyes.

"Want some more, little Red?" Bane asked silkily, pressing his mouth to hers once more, this time kissing her deeply, building anticipation almost a moment too long before sending dark magic coursing through her again and then pulling it back into himself. She clung to him, her body begging for more.

Bane smiled. "As you wish."

Ginny screamed.

TBC …


	17. Define Civilian

**Title**: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

**Chapter Title:** Define Civilian

**Author**: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

**Pairing**: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues)

**Disclaime**r: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

**Synopsis**: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

**Rating**: **_Mature, R, Adult – rated for language, explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised. Not intended for underage readers._**

**A/N's: Sorry this took so long. Serious writer's block, but I'm working through it, bare with me, please!**

Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

* * *

Ginny stared at Bane Black from her position sprawled across the carpet. She had one pale hand pressed to her chest, and she was panting. She pushed her hand through her damp hair and tried to pull herself together. "That was incredible."

"I know," Bane whispered back, huskily.

Ginny shivered. While she could see a strong resemblance between Bane and Harry, she could clearly see the differences. Bane was a full-grown man, with the weight of a fighter. He moved with the grace of a man comfortable in his own skin and musculature, a man who had tested his limits and knew himself fully. She licked her lips and reached to remove her shirt.

Bane's hand closed over her wrist. "What are you doing?"

"Don't you want to …?" Ginny was confused.

"You have enough people using you." Bane smirked. "And I certainly don't need to."

"Oh." Ginny felt oddly vulnerable, more than she would have if he had accepted her offer and she was naked. She felt tears well up in her eyes, and turned her face away.

"I've upset you," Bane observed.

"Yes," she said softly.

"Good. You deserved it." He let go of her hand and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now get up and stop sniveling on the floor. You're better than that."

"What do you know?" She sneered, purposefully leaning back against the floor.

"More than you know about yourself, clearly." Bane frowned. "Stop letting people use you. You have power. Stop giving it away … for free, at least."

Ginny felt a wave of shame inside her crash into a newly defiant shore. "What do you care?"

"Just because I don't want to use you, doesn't mean I don't want you around, little girl." His eyes held no pity and she found that comforting. "I would _love_ to have you at my side. If you can pull yourself together, anyway. You're kind of a disappointment right now."

"Disappointment? Do you always have high expectations of complete strangers?"

"You're not a complete stranger. I know you. I know the woman you came from."

"My mother?"

"No." Bane smiled. "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually. You're a clever girl."

Ginny watched him shrewdly. "What are you doing here, Bane?"

Bane laughed. "Get up."

She pulled herself to her feet. "Fine."

"What exactly is going on here?" An icy voice demanded across the room.

"Ah, Lucius. We've been waiting for you." Bane bowed in a mocking salute. Lucius did not seem amused.

* * *

Harry sat up, the sheet falling away from his body. Draco lay on his side, propped on one elbow, silently watching him. Harry's entire being seemed to hum with a dull ache he found oddly more bearable than the sharp pain he usually felt. Harry folded his arms and rested them on his bent knees, turning his head to look back at Draco.

"Something's coming, Draco," Harry whispered. "I can feel it."

Draco raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"I realize by this point, I'm probably a little crazy," Harry confessed. "But I'm not _wrong_."

"Probably not."

"For just a moment, when I first woke up, I thought it was over," Harry continued softly. "Well, half of me did anyway."

"It's never over."

"I know." Harry stared out the window. "Do you see that?"

"The thestrals?" Draco glanced out the window and froze. "What _is_ that?"

"Something's got them all excited." Harry stood, letting the sheet slide back to the bed and moving quickly to the door.

"Hey, Potter," Draco drawled.

"What?" Harry snapped, his voice sounding tired despite his irritation.

"Might want to put some clothes on first."

"Right."

* * *

Outside of the gates of Hogwarts were thirteen poles, driven deep into the ground, and hanging from each one was a corpse in Death Eater's robes. Harry regarded the sight from the front step of the Hogwarts main entrance, his mouth drawn in a tight line. The sun was rising, gilding the grim sight before him. The lack of fog made the hanging figures seem somehow more obscene. Harry was vaguely aware of Draco standing behind his left shoulder, a hand covering his mouth.

"What the fuck …" Draco whispered through his fingers, nausea apparent in his tone.

"Death Eaters, former." Harry grinned, turning to look at Draco over his shoulder. "Gotta say, there are worse sights to wake up to than dead Voldemort followers … on a stick."

Draco looked at him blankly, but Harry could read the slight disgust in his eyes. "Did you do this?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Harry turned back to the sunrise. "My alibi is air-tight for last night."

"Just looked like something the Bounty Hunter might do." Draco dismissed the thought quickly from his head. "So …"

"Bane." Harry drew his sword slowly from his back sheath. "And if I know him, this is about to get really fun."

"Do you know him?"

"Like the inside of my skull." Harry laughed darkly, appreciating the glisten of his steel in the dawn's icy grip.

"You get a hard-on when you pull that sword, don't you, Potter?"

"Bite me." Harry bared his teeth, but Draco was distracted.

"Are those … are they … moving?" Draco's eyes had fixed back on the thirteen figures outside the gate.

"Yes." Harry grinned fiercely. "_Inferi. _This day just keeps getting better."

"Which question were you answering?" But Harry was already gone. "Probably both," the blond muttered.

Draco watched Harry gracefully descend the stairs, his movements sliding into those of a predator as he stalked towards the gate. The figures dropped from the stakes to the ground with a great wrenching sound, immediately turning to come after Harry. As Harry engaged them, sword flickering in the red and purple sunlight, Draco thought he glimpsed the shadow of death standing to the side watching, and shivered as he remembered that Death was quite a fan of watching Harry kill. Harry's grin shone like the rising sun, and for the first time since they had faced Voldemort, Harry seemed to be at peace. Draco felt a wave of near regret that there were only thirteen of them for Harry to slaughter. Death was right. Harry did put a raw beauty in ruthless destruction.

"What do you think about, when you see Harry like that?" Hermione whispered, appearing as if out of nowhere beside Draco.

A different man might have been startled. But it really took a lot to surprise the youngest Malfoy these days. "I think about all the fights we used to get into in our school days."

"Funny … that's what I think about, too." Hermione drew her cloak closer around her shoulders. "It always feels wrong to me, watching him fight like this. I feel like I should be helping."

"He's almost done. I don't think he really needed assistance," Draco pointed out reasonably, as the sounds of the sword sinking into flesh over and over echoed around them.

"Harry hasn't needed my help in a very long time. He fought so hard to free me, and yet …"

"It feels like he couldn't care less whether you were alive or dead." Draco nodded.

"No. It feels like he's already dead and he doesn't understand why no one's letting him go and moving on." Hermione frowned.

Draco thought about the look on Harry's face as he stared at Death. It was almost _desire. _He focused on Harry driving his sword through the chest of the last of the creatures. Harry turned the sword methodically, a look of grim satisfaction on his face, but when he sensed Draco's gaze and turned to meet his eyes, Draco saw longing in Harry's eyes, and couldn't help but think the longing was not for Draco, but for the Death that Harry delivered so skillfully.

"Tell me, Hermione – have I ever been in one of your visions?"

Hermione's laugh was soft and unsettling. "Not yet."

Draco shook his head. This castle was filling up with a quiet, creepy kind of crazy that reminded him of Malfoy Manor. It was sick that he found it kind of soothing.

"Hello, Hermione." Harry climbed up the steps, stopping two beneath where Hermione stood to scrape what appeared to be entrails off his blade. "Ready to start classes?"

"That's it? You spend the first hour of your day slaying Inferi and all you have to say to me is, 'ready for classes?'" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, you're the Divination professor. Figured you already knew what was going on."

"I do."

"Well then." Harry looked at her expectantly.

"Let's go get some breakfast." Hermione sighed wearily, turning to go back inside.

"Did I say something wrong?" Harry asked Draco.

Draco shook his head, looking up at the castle doors. "Home, sweet home."

Harry scowled and went inside.

* * *

"Good morning, Harry!" Piper said brightly. "Are you all packed for your trip?"

"What trip?" Harry frowned, pausing beside her seat at the Ravenclaw table.

"Oh, sorry. Has that not happened yet?" She shrugged, returning to her breakfast. "Tell you what – get back to me with your answer in a day or so!"

Harry shook his head and started towards the Gryffindor Table.

"Wrong way, Harry!" Piper called.

"What? Oh, right." Harry turned towards the Head Table instead.

"Yeah, I meant you were headed towards the wrong _table._" Piper sighed as Prophet settled himself next to her.

"Did you tell him to give Neville the sword yet?" Prophet asked, helping himself to a cup of coffee.

"Curses. That was the part that was supposed to come first." Piper sighed. "That's okay. He can hear about it after Divination class."

Prophet nodded and went back to his coffee.

* * *

"All the king's horses, all the king's men," Hermione whispered, her eyes far away, her hands clasped gently in Prophet's.

"I thought we were going to be discussing the curriculum for her class." Snape looked on with a distinctly disapproving look.

"It's ok, peaches." Piper smiled slyly at the Potions Master. "He has no designs on your girl. It's uncomfortable to date someone who sees the future."

He gave her a quizzical look and she just shrugged.

"Hypocrite is a dirty word, Professor Snape." Piper laughed. "I never minded getting dirty."

"He's raising an army … an army of the dead …" Hermione clung to Prophet, whom Snape now felt was too tall and too handsome for his age. Prophet put his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. His white hair fell over her dark curls as he pressed his forehead to hers. Snape scowled.

"Do you want to see the rest of it?" Prophet asked Hermione gently.

"Y-yes. I do." Her voice was determined.

"So be it." Prophet tilted her face up and kissed her forehead.

Snape started forward, but was stopped by Piper's hand on his arm. "Ah, ah! Calm down, Peaches."

"You are thoroughly irritating." Snape sneered at her, shaking her hand off. "Unhand me!"

"Yeah, ok." She smiled brightly as he started to push past her. "Would you like to know how you're going to die?"

Snape stopped in his tracks.

Hermione made a small sound, her head rolling back, but Prophet managed to keep her upright. He threaded one hand through her hair, his thumb pressing against her jawline. Her eyes were completely white.

Snape clenched his fists, wanting to snatch her away from the blond boy so badly he could barely stand it.

"Oh, it's too late now. If you wake her from the trance you could cause permanent damage," Piper commented, smiling. "Did I distract you? My bad."

"There are words for you, my girl, and none of them are as innocuous as 'bad'."

"Thanks!" She grinned from ear to ear. "Now let's see what your little crumbcake has to say, shall we? I have a feeling this is going to be good stuff. Prophet has a sense for these sorts of things."

As Hermione began to speak, Prophet cradled her gently against him. Piper charmed a quill to begin recording what was being said, and tried to remember what she was supposed to tell Harry to give Neville.

* * *

"War cannot be avoided – only postponed to the advantages of others," Harry said quietly, once Piper had finished reading Hermione's vision to the assembled group.

"He hasn't attacked yet. And he's the fifth Founder. Maybe he's not … we can't just assume he's the next Dark Lord," Hermione protested. "The visions I've had … they're scared of him, but they love him, too. They are surrounded by sadness at killing him. And they didn't kill him – they sent him here."

"What do you think this morning was – an Inferi gift basket? It wasn't a welcome present, it was a warning. He wants this castle," Harry stated. "They sent him here so we could kill him."

"You don't know that," Hermione insisted. Severus wrapped an arm around her. "Maybe we should talk to Professor Dumbledore about this …"

"Go ahead." Harry set his jaw. "Maybe you can help him plan who to sacrifice next while Black starts killing us off one by one."

"Harry …" Hermione closed her eyes, but even she knew that Harry was now more in charge then Dumbledore. If Harry decided to fight, the castle would fight with him. Dumbledore himself had set Harry up to lead the charge, whatever it might be. Prophet put his hand on her shoulder.

"Harry's right, Hermione," Piper said gently. "I'm sorry." She turned to Harry. "There are weapons that will help you fight. We just have to find them."

Prophet turned towards Harry. "You know where they are."

"Weapons that will help us fight what exactly?" Snape questioned.

"He's resurrecting the dead. A literal army of the dead." Harry shook his head, purposefully not acknowledging Prophet's comment. _The swords …_. "It's like a bad American movie."

"I think it is a bad American movie." Hermione frowned, before a serious thought made her throat constrict. "Where is he getting all the bodies?"

Harry nodded grimly. "My guess? From the Forbidden Forest. They're magical creatures and humans alike."

"Ok, so that's bad." Neville looked between Harry and Hermione. "But it's not *that* bad is it? I mean, they already died once, how hard can it be to kill them again?"

"Do you know how many creatures have died in the Forbidden Forest over the last few centuries?" Hermione asked, swallowing hard. "Giants. Acromantula. Wizards."

"It's worse than that," Draco finally spoke up. "Isn't it, Harry? Don't you think you should tell them?"

"Tell us what?" Hermione's eyes shifted between them. Images from the Divining part of her brain started to flood in. A feeling of cold dread settled in her stomach. "H-harry?

Harry just stared at the ground, a tick working in his jaw.

"After the Christmas Massacre – where did you bury them, Harry?" Hermione asked.

His eyes met hers, and they were dark with fury and pain, and they all knew the answer.

"Oh God." Ginny sat down. "No."

"Ginny, are you okay?" Hermione sat next to her.

"No. I'm not. That's where … where …"

Harry felt the whole room go silent. He had not been allowed to go to Ron's funeral, had never seen his final resting place. "That's where you buried Ron, isn't it?"

Harry turned away from them, muscles shaking. He hit his fists on the rock wall behind him, cursing loudly.

"Harry!" Draco made to stand.

"So be it." Harry turned back to the room, his jaw set firmly once more. "War it is."

* * *

"I'm going to inform the Headmaster of the latest developments," Snape announced in the silence following Harry's declaration. He held a hand out to Hermione. "I think he'll wish to speak with you."

Prophet stood. "I'll go with you."

Snape sneered at him, but said nothing. The uneasy trio left the room.

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. So much to do … what was the next step?

Piper smiled, standing before him. "Give him the sword. I'll help you find the others."

"Excuse me?" Harry stared at her.

"You know what I'm talking about." She turned towards the door. "I have to go talk to your house. See you soon."

Harry turned to face Neville. "I have something of yours."

"Is that so?" Neville regarded him evenly.

Harry drew a sword from the invisible sheath on his back. "The sword of Gryffindor."

"I thought that was yours." Neville didn't move. "Are you sure you want to surrender your weapon to _me_?"

Harry smiled grimly. "I have another."

"I'm sure you do." Neville took the sword, his hands closing around the hilt with reverence. A look of supreme satisfaction crossed his face. "I'll use it well."

"I have no doubt," Harry said softly as Neville settled back in his chair. They stood watching each other for a moment.

"I have to go." Ginny stood up suddenly, her expression distracted. She left the room, Harry on her heels. Harry didn't bother with goodbyes.

Neville's eyes had followed Harry out the door, though he did not move to follow. Draco took the opportunity to address Neville. "I have a good idea what you're up to, Longbottom."

"That's odd." Neville smiled grimly, standing with effortless grace. "I was under the impression that you've never had a 'good' idea, Malfoy."

"I just wanted to give you fair warning." Draco's eyes frosted over, like steel cast in snow. He folded his arms over his chest, the luxurious satin of his robe settling around him like an expensive frame around a priceless painting. "You'll never touch him."

"I'm not sure what you're accusing me of, Draco." Neville's eyes narrowed, glittering dangerously. The gravel in his voice seemed to rumble like distant thunder. "What's the matter – afraid I'm after your man?"

Draco glared back at him. In their school days, such a concentrated glare would probably have sent Neville off in tears. Today – Draco almost felt like he was the one who should be running away crying. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, the whole castle knows the two of you are fucking," Neville waved his hand dismissively.

"Never mind that." Draco's voice lowered, becoming a threat without ever changing timbre. "You touch him and you're a dead man."

"I might as well be." Neville laughed. "It was nice talking to you, Draco."

"That's the last time it will be," Draco promised. "No one fucks with what's mine."

"I'll keep that in mind." Neville saluted him with his sword as he exited the room. "Be seeing you."

Draco thought he could feel Death laughing in his ear.

* * *

Harry followed Ginny out of the door. "Where are you off to … little red?"

Ginny stopped in her tracks. "What did you call me?"

"I can feel him on you." Harry leaned against the wall, watching her out of hooded eyes. "And he had to know that I would."

"What do you want from me, Harry?" Ginny asked, turning to face him.

"I think the question is actually what do you want from me, Gin?" Harry asked. He pulled an ebony wand from his pocket. "Is this it?"

"How did you …" Ginny bit her lip. "I wasn't going to get it for him."

"Really? He gave you all that new power for free, then?" Harry stood, and the motion reminded her of a snake uncurling from the shadows.

"Double crossing has become my forte." She held her ground. The new power rushing through her veins had changed something inside of her. She felt … strong now. Not addicted, not using, like she had from Lucius's magic. This power was deeper … and it was hers.

"So I have noticed." Harry inclined his head. "But the question is now what side are you really on? Are you going to help us or him?"

"And if I said I was going to help him?" Ginny raised her chin. "Would you kill me right here? In a Hogwarts hallway?"

Harry had the tip of his wand digging into her neck in a flash. He whispered huskily, "In a heartbeat."

"Well, that makes my answer pretty predictable, doesn't it?" She wet her lips, waiting for the white hot burn of fear to go through her. It didn't.

Harry threaded the fingers of his free hand through her silky hair, cradling her skull in his palm. He hissed, "Swear it. Swear you align with _me_."

"I swear it," she whispered back, her heart rate calm. A silver strand shot out from Harry's wand and she felt the bond of the Unbreakable Vow close around her. "Clever, Harry."

Harry smirked. "I think you'll find this is the start of something great, little Red."

Ginny actually grinned back at him. "You know what, Bounty Hunter? I think you're right."

* * *

Draco found Harry on his way to the Black Tower. "What were you and Ginny talking about?"

"Having sex with you. She wants a ride, but I told her you had to be this tall." Harry held his hand to his temple as he walked.

"You can't trust her." Draco wasn't buying it for a second.

"Oh, I don't know about that." Harry smiled as he opened the door to his house. The House of Black students were racing around in a rather organized fashion. They all seemed to be handing reports to a blond young man standing by the fireplace. He looked up at them as they entered, and immediately strode forward.

The young man extended his hand to Harry. "Sir, I'm pleased to meet you. I am Seth Hawkins, and I'm the 7th year Black prefect."

"Are you?" Harry shook his hand, bemused. "I believe I am supposed to make those appointments, son."

"I'm the most qualified, and it was decided by unanimous vote," Seth said respectfully. "However, if you would like to consider your other options …"

"That won't be necessary," Harry said dismissively. "What are you all working on?"

"We set up the hierarchy of the House, year leaders, Prefects, a choice for Head Girl that I'd like you to look at, drawn up emergency plans, and created files on all the members of all the other houses." Seth listed the items methodically. "Piper set us in the right direction, but we lost her about twenty minutes ago."

Draco let out a low whistle. "You've been busy."

Harry seemed impressed. "Anything else?"

"Yes, we've also been working on a defense strategy for the castle." Seth handed Harry what appeared to blueprints for the castle.

"These guys make Slytherin House seem lazy," Draco commented, peering over Harry's shoulders. "I'm sure we haven't even started gathering intelligence on the other houses yet."

"Ambition plus initiative," Harry said, looking up as 7th years started levitating heavy trunks down into the Great Room. "You seem well-prepared, Seth."

"Thank you, sir." Seth inclined his head with the finesse of a politician He nodded to what appeared to be a small version of himself striding through the room with a sheath of papers clutched in his hand.

"Seth, I have the inventory list, but I'm sure there are more stashed in the personal trunks."

"Thank you, Ethan." Seth took the lists. "Professors? This is my little brother, and right hand."

Ethan bowed to Harry and Draco. "Ethan Hawkins, sirs. Pleased to meet you."

Draco was reading the plans and ignored the introductions. "You have students stationed at some of these posts."

"Yes, Professor Malfoy." Seth gestured to one of the points. "You'll notice that they're strategically important but relatively easy to defend."

"Potter, you can't be thinking about letting students fight." Draco stared at Harry who was nodding his head along with Seth as if this had been the plan all along.

"Why not?" Harry seemed confused.

"They're kids." Draco watched as the trunks landed side by side for Seth's inspection. Seth pulled his wand and levitated off the lids.

"Are they?" Harry smiled, inspecting the contents of the trunk. He looked up at Draco. "So were we."

"They're not soldiers, Potter." Draco frowned. "You can't sacrifice civilian children."

"Sir, I respectfully disagree." Seth pulled a deadly looking sword out of the trunk and grinned at Harry, who let out a whistle of appreciation.

"On what premise?" Draco asked, admiring the shine of the steel even as he did so.

Ethan smirked, pulling his own blade out. "Define civilian."

Harry's approving laughter echoed through the tower.

TBC ....

* * *

**Preview of next chapter:**

"You four are the very picture of the Founders," Prophet pulled back the curtain over the painting.

"This is ridiculous. We look _exactly_ like the Founders, and in all of our years at Hogwarts, _no one noticed_?" Draco stared up at the painting. It could have been of him, Neville, Hermione and Ginny. He looked back at the other people in the room expectantly.

"Well, let's be fair, when were you all standing together?" Piper pointed out.

"Point taken." Draco shook his head.


End file.
